It Only Takes a Year
by fallen509
Summary: Series of one shots in between "A Heart To Call Home" and it's upcoming sequel.  Follows the lives of Rayan and her friends as they put their plan in motion.  Please read "A Heart To Call Home" first, in order to understand.  *I OWN NOTHING*
1. Month 1

When Rayan first brought up the idea of summoning Death without any of the adults in the Winchester household finding out, Andy just thought she was crazy.

But now, a month after the fateful afternoon in Rayan's bedroom, he's pretty sure that his best friend has gone beyond crazy and into the realm of delusional. Mainly because Andy is the one stuck sneaking around Bobby Singer's library in the middle of the afternoon, constantly looking over his should and waiting for someone to bust him for aiding and abetting.

This was the first time that the library had been left empty for any length of time, considering everyone was spending his or her time trying to figure out what Death wanted with Rayan. And constant hours of researching meant constant hours in the library. And Andy obviously couldn't start poking around the dusty volumes looking for a ritual to summon Death with the oldest Winchester hovering over his shoulder.

But when Dean had announced that there was nothing else in the library to look at, and everyone would just have to start looking at other sources, Rayan and Alabama finally decided that Andy now had the perfect opportunity to snoop without fear of being caught.

Like Andy would ever trust Rayan and Alabama to be right about not getting in trouble.

Not that Andy's opinion mattered, because what the two teenage girls living in the old house wanted, they got. So Andy found himself humming the Mission: Impossible theme song under his breath as he tiptoes down the hallway and through the doorway leading into the library, silently praying to whatever being was listening (other than Castiel) that he wouldn't get caught.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he peers into the dusty room and finds it empty except for the empty bottle of hunter's helper that Bobby left last night on the small desk in the corner of the room. The library being empty allows Andy to loosen one of the many tension knots in the back of his neck, and he can feel a tiny amount of nervousness slide away from his skin.

Maybe this won't be as difficult as he was expecting.

The teen quickly makes his way over to the large bookcase containing all of the texts involving Death, reapers, and everything in between, scanning over the old volumes lovingly. Andy hasn't had the chance to read this particular collection yet, apart from his lazy perusing earlier in the year, and he can practically taste the knowledge that each book contains.

"Focus, Andy," the teen scolds himself and he shakes his head and reaches up for the first book on the highest shelf. Before flipping open the cover, he sends out a little wish that the ritual will be in the book. The sooner her gets out of this library with the information he needs, the better.

But naturally, the ritual isn't in the first book. Or the second. Or even the third.

Andy is still in the library forty-five minutes later, actively searching through his thirteenth book about bringing animals back to life when he hears the squeak of tiny sneakers against the hardwood floor in the hallway. He's acutely aware that the footsteps must belong to Carson, because no other Winchester wears anything but heavy boots on their feet, but that doesn't stop Andy from panicking and quickly throwing himself in a chair sitting in the corner of the room. Because where there is Carson, Sam isn't far behind.

Sure enough, thirty seconds later the small, floppy-haired head of Carson Winchester pokes around the corner of the doorway and a beaming smile breaks out across the small boys face.

"Dude!" Andy greets, doing his best to replicate the smile on the young boy's face, despite the nerves crawling up and down his spine. "What are you doing here?"

"Daddy dropped me off with Grandpa because he had to go to a meeting," Carson states as if it's the most obvious thing in the word, and Andy mentally relaxes at the information that Sam won't be poking his head in anytime soon. "What are _you _doing in here, Andy?"

"Just a little bit of reading, buddy," the teen replies as he gestures to the book. "No big deal."

Carson gives Andy a skeptical look, narrowing his hazel eyes slightly. "Grandpa said no one's allowed in her unless he says so."

Normally, Andy would argue with the small boy and explain that _he _had full rights to the library, but the teen was too pressed for time. Instead he decides to use the age-old method of diverting the prying eyes of five-year-olds everywhere.

Bribery.

"I'll tell you what, Carson," Andy begins as he leans forward with a serious look on his face. "If you walk out of this room right now, and don't tell anyone that you saw me in here, I'll buy you three Hot Wheels."

Carson considers the offer for a moment, studying Andy with an equally serious face. But after a moment, the child shakes his head back and forth. "Nope. I want something _now_, or I'll tell Grandpa and Uncle Dean you're in here."

Andy scowls at the child's threat, because even though he won't get in trouble for being in the library, one of the older men is bound to come see what he's up to, and then he'll never get the ritual.

"You drive a hard bargain, kid," Andy concedes with a small glare. "But fine, you win. Go up to Ray's room and tell her to give you the Butterfinger out of my jacket pocket. Will that be good enough to keep my secret?"

"Deal!" Carson exclaims with a bright grin on his face. "It was nice doing busy with you." And with that, Carson is out of the library and scurrying down the hall, leaving Andy to contemplate just how much Dean and Rayan have corrupted the smallest Winchester without Sam knowing.

Not to mention the fact that Andy was _seriously _looking forward to that candy bar.

* * *

><p>Another half an hour later, and Andy feels like his eyeballs have turned into shriveled up grapes from all of the reading he's been doing. Twenty-two books of nothing but depressing facts about the different ways a reaper can kill something and then bring it back to life, and yet he hasn't found even the slightest sign of the summoning ritual he saw so many weeks back.<p>

Andy is about to slam the twenty-third book shut when he catches a single phrase in the books index.

_To Bring Forth the Creator of Destruction_

The teen quickly flips to the marked pages and nearly shouts for joy when he recognizes the familiar Latin phrasing and instructions for the summoning ritual he found all those weeks ago. He's pretty sure that nothing could make him happier in this moment than finding this stupid book and getting out of the library.

All he has to do is copy down the information, and he's home free.

Andy is so absorbed in copying the information perfectly, along with reveling in his elation at even finding the damned ritual, that he completely misses the heavy footfalls approaching the library from the hallway, or the soft sigh that comes from the man once he's settled himself leaning against the doorway.

"What're you reading?"

Andy swears his heart stops beating when Dean's gruff voice sounds from the front of the room, and he quickly looks up from the book and snaps the old cover closed with a resound snap.

"Dean!" the teen squeaks from his spot near the old desk, and he mentally curses himself for sounding so guilty. This is the first time in his life that he's actually jealous of Rayan and Alabama for being able to always appear innocent.

The oldest Winchester gives Andy a curious glance, but stays in his current position of leaning against the doorframe. "You all right? You sound kind of jumpy?"

"Do I? I don't know why? I'm perfectly normal. Nothing but normal Andy, right here!" Andy would love nothing better than to beat his head in with the large book he's grasping tightly in his hands, because he _clearly _doesn't sound normal. In fact, he's pretty sure he sounds deranged.

Dean scoffs once before straightening and taking a couple of steps into the library. "Whatever you say, Andy." The oldest Winchester stops in the center of the room and gives the book containing the summoning ritual a glance. "So, what's all this about?"

Andy looks down at the book and then back up at Dean, trying to come up with a plausible excuse as to why he's holding a book pertaining to Death after it had been declared that nothing in Bobby's extensive library was useful. Of course, Andy sucks at lying. "Just, uh…trying to do a little more research on this who deal with Rayan," he stutters out as he pulls the book in closer to his chest. "Figured I could try and be useful to the group."

"Andy, we've been over these books at least six times this past month," Dean reasons, giving the teen a steady look. "You know as well as I do that there's nothing in there that can help."

"Well, uh…" Andy stutters, trying to come up with some reason that will get Dean out of the room. But the oldest Winchester doesn't give the teen any real chance to respond.

"Listen Andy, I understand that you're a teenage boy. And teenage boys have some…well, you know," Dean starts, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other as he rubs a calloused hand on the back of his neck. "But listen, Bobby'll kill you if he finds out that you're using his books as a cover."

"Cover for what?" Andy asks genuinely perplexed at Dean's train of thought. "And what do you mean _urges_?"

"I know I don't play for the same team as you, Andy," Dean starts again, oblivious to the teen's obvious confusion. "But I was a teenager once and trust me, I know when a guy's hiding _stuff_, straight or otherwise."

And then Andy gets it. Of course he's horrified, and immediately tries to explain to Dean that he's _definitely _not using the old dusty library volumes as a cover up to hide skin mags in Bobby's house. He's not _stupid_! But Dean refuses to let Andy get a word out.

"Sammy cut a hole into the back of the cabinet in the upstairs bathroom when he was a teenager to hide his magazines. Bobby still has no idea, so feel free to store your…personal effects in there. Just…no more using creepy demon books as a cover."

"No, Dean!" Andy desperately tries to explain, his face heating up to about ten different shades of red. "I really am researching! Seriously!" Only Andy can't prove it, because as soon as he shows the oldest Winchester what page he's really marking, Dean will know what the three teens are up to.

Alabama chooses this moment to make her entrance, smiling wickedly at Andy, because naturally the Powers That Be hate Andy today and she's heard everything, before turning her attention to Dean.

"There you are, Winchester," she complains with a huff. "I've been lookin' everywhere for you. I swear you hide better than a fox waitin' to break into the chicken coop."

Dean gives the teen girl a perplexed look before shaking his head and letting her odd metaphor go. "What do you need, Alabama?"

"Oh, it ain't me that needs anythin'," she begins with a shake of her head. "I just wanted to let you know that the raccoon that's been hangin' around lately has made a new home. On top of the Impala's hood."

Andy can see the utter dread that flies through the oldest Winchester's eyes as he pictures the shiny black paint of the Impala getting marred by tiny raccoon claws, and it's takes Dean all of five seconds to rush out of the library without a second glance. But before he gets too far down the hall, Andy hears a shout float in the library's direction.

"Remember what I said, Andy! Back of the cabinet!"

That's all it takes for Alabama to double over in laughter, gasping at her sides as she tries to breathe in at least a small amount of oxygen.

"This isn't funny, Alabama!" Andy seethes as he returns to copying down the last few lines of the ritual from the book.

"Oh, you're right. This ain't funny," the southern girl manages to choke out. "This is hilarious!"

"Whatever," Andy grumbles as he slams the cover of the book shut and places it back on the shelf where he found it. "You're not the one suffering from mortal humiliation."

Alabama straightens up and shoots another wicked grin at the teen. "I know, which is what makes this moment that much better."

Andy scoffs and pushes past Alabama, marching towards the stairway to deliver the handwritten notes to Rayan in her bedroom, Alabama still sniggering behind him. But putting his mortification aside, Andy is relieved to know that his part of this dangerous game is over for the moment.

And he'll mark 'Operation Caller I.D. Death' a success.


	2. Month 2

Month 2 brought no significant changes in the teenagers' quest of summoning Death. They hadn't gotten any farther than acquiring the ritual and calling around to a few contacts in the supernatural world that Rayan and Alabama felt certain wouldn't try and contact Dean, Bobby, or Sam about possible items that they were going to need. The lack of progress was putting all of the teens on edge.

"Where in the _hell_ are we supposed to get the scale of a luck dragon?" Rayan demanded as she threw the list onto her bed again. "What do they expect a girl to do, fly to China?"

"Well I'm pretty sure this isn't supposed to be easy, Ray," Andy tried to soothe his best friend. "This is to summon Death, after all."

"Doesn't mean they had to make it impossible."

Alabama chuckles softly from the floor where she is leaning against the side of Rayan's bed. "You're always way too optimistic, Winchester," the southern girl drawls with a smile. "But luckily, I'm pretty awesome and my daddy knew a guy that used to hunt who moved to China a few years ago. He got his hands on a few of those scales lyin' around. Said he'd have one shipped into town, so it should be here by Friday."

"See, Ray, just try and relax," Andy says, wants again trying to calm the young Winchester down.

"I can't relax yet," Rayan demands, but not before sending a grateful nod in Alabama's direction. "That's only one item out of about sixteen, most of which aren't any easier to come across than the scale. And besides, if this hunter is shipping in the scale, how in the world are we going to get it past Gramps. He's the one who accepts all packages that come into the house."

"Oh ye of little faith," Andy scolds with a smirk. "You honestly think I would have given Alabama a shipping address that could get us caught? Please. I set up a P.O. box in town under an alias that all packages will be shipped to, and only you, me, and Alabama can access it. Nothing will ever cross into this house unless one of us is bringing it in."

The answer is so completely Andy that Alabama can't help but laugh at the smug grin on her best friend's face. And then she has to shake her own head in guilt, because honestly how could she _not _think that Andy would have a plan in place. The young man always had a plan.

Then there was the fact that she'd done nothing but freak out on her friends since they got a hold of the ritual a month ago. Complaining about the number of items needed, the difficulty in actually acquiring the items, and just the overall speed of the process. Rayan was just so anxious to figure out what was so special about her that the thought of waiting still seemed ludicrous.

But her friends didn't have to be putting up with her moods, because they were putting themselves at risk just as much as Rayan. Especially because if Dean or anyone else ever found out what they were doing, all three of the teens would never see the light of day again.

"Listen, Winchester, we get it," Alabama says as she shifts her position from the floor to on top of the bed with Andy, pushing aside several of the books scattered across the comforter. "We get that you're impatient, considerin' this is your life we're trying to figure out. But we can't go any faster than we already are without riskin' your daddy findin' out. But we _will_ figure everythin' out, okay?"

Rayan opens her mouth to respond, but she is cut off by Bobby's enraged yell from downstairs.

"Rayan Elizabeth Winchester, get your _ass _down into this kitchen _right now_!"

"Shit," Rayan hisses as she turns to face the other two teens on her bed. "You don't think Gramps found out, do you?"

"There's no way," Andy denies with a furious shake of his head. "We haven't brought anything into this house, and I copied the ritual out of the book and put it back exactly as it was. Something else has Bobby upset."

"_Rayan!"_ Bobby's voice thunders from downstairs again, sending all three teens scrambling towards the bedroom door.

Alabama, who reaches the hallway first, cracks a smile at her two companions. "Lets go find out what Papa Singer wants, shall we?"

* * *

><p>When the three teens marched into the living room, the sight before them was definitely not what they were expecting.<p>

Bobby was towering over the worn down couch, his face red with angry as he glared down at a lounging Lucas who was currently shoveling a handful of potato chips into his mouth, crumbs falling onto his shirt front. The reaper was fixated on the small television in front of him, laughing at on old roadrunner cartoon that was playing.

It had pretty much been like this since the group returned from Georgia two months ago, and Lucas had become a permanent, and more visible occupant of the household. It hadn't been bad at first, because Lucas was an active participant in searching for a solution to the whole demons wanting Rayan dead thing, but when the search turned up nothing useful the reaper took up his current state.

"I swear to god, reaper," Bobby threatened as he shoved a finger in Lucas's direction. "This has gone too far. Get your dead, lazy _ass_ off of my couch, and out there in the garage you son of a –"

"Gramps!" Rayan interrupts, pulling Bobby's attention away from Lucas and towards her. Not that Lucas was paying attention to the older man anyway. "What in the world is going on down here?"

"I'll tell you what's going on, darlin'," Bobby seethes as he throws one last withering glance towards Lucas and then marches over to his granddaughter. "Your reaper over there is driving me up the damn wall!"

While Bobby rants to Rayan, Alabama takes the opportunity to walk into the living room and study the reaper lying on the couch. When Lucas makes no move to acknowledge her presence, Alabama lightly reaches out and pokes him in the side in an attempt to get some sort of reaction. Lucas gives her nothing in return.

"I think he's dead," Alabama remarks with a smirk.

"Of course he's dead," Andy responds with a roll of his eyes. "He's a _reaper_, for goodness sake."

Alabama opens her mouth to snap out a response, but Bobby beats her to it. "Well, I don't give a damn _what _he is. People are starting to talk about why I took in another stray, and talking leads to questions. Questions we can't answer."

"Okay Gramps, I can see why that'd be annoying," Rayan concedes with a nod. "But what are we supposed to do about it? We can't really hide the fact that he's around now."

"I ain't suggesting we do that," Bobby replies with a scowl. "What I am _demanding_ is that he gets his ass off of my couch, and goes out to the garage to help your daddy. If he works in the garage, I can tell people that he's working here for room and board. But apparently, the princess doesn't agree."

Rayan sighs and rubs a hand across her face in exasperation, because this is exactly what she _doesn't_ need at this point in her life. As if worrying about demon's chasing her and her freaky ability to see dead people isn't enough. But now she has to worry about a lazy reaper getting on her grandfather's last nerve.

"All right, Gramps, just give me a minute to talk to him," Rayan soothes as she scoots around Bobby and marches over to stand next to Alabama at the end of the couch. "Lucas, what in the hell are you doing?"

The reaper doesn't respond, and instead laughs at an image of an anvil falling on Wyle Coyote's head. Rayan quickly gets annoyed and snatches the remote off the reaper's stomach and switches the television off. That gets Lucas's attention, and he quickly sits up with an indignant yell.

"I don't want to hear it, Lucas," Rayan demands before the reaper can form a sentence. "What I do want to know is why you're an inside this house, and not out in the garage with my dad."

"That's not my job, Rayan," Lucas argues with a shake of his head and a smile. "My job is to protect you. I can't do that if I'm focusing on the engine of a car."

Rayan rolls her eyes and plants her hands on her hips. "Oh, and sitting in front of the television shoving potato chips into your mouth is protecting me? That's bullshit, Lucas." Rayan tilts her head to the right in confusion as she studies her reaper bodyguard. "And by the way, _why _are you eating chips? You're dead. You don't need food."

Lucas shrugs his shoulders and reaches into the bag of potato chips for another handful. "Just because I'm dead, doesn't mean my taste buds stop working." Lucas pats his stomach appreciatively with his free hand before continuing. "Besides, begin dead means I can eat as much as I want, and never lose this amazing physique."

"Yeah, you're God's gift to man," Alabama scoffs from next to Rayan. Then she turns her attention to Bobby. "Sorry Papa Singer, but it looks like you've got yourself a new living room decoration."

"The hell I do," Bobby growls as he marches back over to Lucas and grips the collar of his shirt, hauling the reaper off the couch and towards the living room doorway. "You ain't eating me out of house and home without helping out around here."

Rayan, who was quick to follow Bobby's movements, quickly reaches up and extracts the older man's hands from Lucas's shirt. "Okay, Gramps, he gets the picture." Once Bobby's hands are back by his sides, and not practically strangling the reaper, Rayan focuses her attention on Lucas's scowling face. "Now he's right, Lucas. You need to get outside and help my dad. It's going to look weird if a twenty-two year old just shows up at Singer Salvage and doesn't do anything. So starting today, you are Lucas West the new assistant mechanic helping out Dean Winchester. Got that?"

Lucas rolls his eyes in Rayan's direction before turning to head back towards the couch. "Very funny, Winchester. This has been very enter-"

Rayan grabs Lucas's shoulder in a tight grip and spins the reaper around. "I said, do you _got that_?"

"Oh snap," Alabama murmurs with a snicker from next to Bobby and Andy, who are both standing an a small amount of awe at Rayan's forcefulness.

"You got that right," Andy agrees in a breathy whisper. "She sounds so calm, and yet…_angry_."

Apparently, the humans in the room are not the only one's who find the young Winchester a little intimidating. Lucas is actually gaping at the teen in front of him, his eyes wide in shock. "Rayan, you can't honestly expect me to _work_. Like a _human_."

"That's exactly what I expect, Lucas," Rayan confirms with a sharp nod of her head. "Now there is an old pair of Daddy's jeans hanging up in the closet that are grease stained. You can wear those for now until we get you a junkie pair at the Goodwill. Dad will have a work shirt out in the garage for you to wear also."

Rayan doesn't say anything else, and instead just turns on her heal and begins marching back up the stairs towards her room. She gets about halfway up the old stairs before she turns to face Andy and Alabama, both of whom are standing next to Bobby with their mouths open. "You two coming, or not?"

Alabama and Andy each turn to look at each other before hurrying after Rayan up the stairs, and Bobby hears the resounding slam of her bedroom door moments later. The older man turns towards the reaper, who is equally as surprised at the turn of events, and smiles as he pulls the jeans from the closet he is standing next to. Lucas takes the jeans in silence, mouth still hanging open like a fish, and Bobby has to laugh at loud since his mood has considerably lifted since his granddaughter made her announcement.

"Looks like you better get to work, idjit."


	3. Month 3

Alabama pulls her father's rusty pick up truck in front of the post office downtown on a sunny Saturday morning. Not that she finds this day so wonderful, considering she's the one that has to drive the twenty minutes into town every time a new piece of the ritual ships into their P.O. box.

But it's not like their little ragtag spy team has another option for a delivery specialist. Rayan is watched like a hawk now that it's been made clear the demons want her, and anytime she wants to leave the house she has an escort by her side. And Andy, while amazing with the research and technical side of hunting, stands a snowball's chance in hell of protecting himself if something goes wrong with the pick up.

So that leaves Alabama, who can virtually sneak away from the household without anyone questioning her too harshly. The Winchester's know that the southern girl's more than capable of taking care of herself in a fight. Not to mention the fact that Dean is still easing his way into the role of her legal guardian, because Alabama is more than aware that the oldest Winchester is afraid of stepping on some recently departed parental toes.

But none of this means that Alabama has to like waking up at the crack of dawn to collect a package.

She trudges into the small post office, sliding her aviators up into her curly dark hair and cautiously scanning the building. There are only two other people standing in line, an elderly couple quietly holding hands and giggling like their teenagers, so Alabama quietly bypasses the pair and heads towards the back room just off the lobby that houses the P.O. boxes, ducking her head down to concentrate on fishing the small key out of her pocket. The sooner she can get the deliver, the sooner she can head back to the salvage yard and crawl back into bed.

Alabama grasps the tiny silver key with a small snort of approval, but immediately freezes in her tracks when she looks up upon entering the back room. Leaning against the wall housing P.O. Box 134 is a slender middle-aged woman with curly brown hair. She has a medium sized package propped under her denim jacket covered arm, and she's glancing impatiently down at the obscenely expensive watch on her wrist.

And sure, the fact that there's a woman waiting to deliver this package to Alabama is surprising enough, but that's not the real reason the southern teen can't seem to take any more steps forward. Or close her jaw for that matter.

Alabama's shock all boils down to the fact that the woman waiting with a carefully wrapped Hand of Glory is Gina Williams, Alabama's mother.

The southern girl isn't sure if she should laugh, cry, or just cut her loses and bolt. Finding a dealer with a Hand of Glory had been nearly impossible, but Alabama's sure they could dig up another one. Someone who wasn't the woman she'd grown to hate over the last ten years. But the southern girl takes too long to make a decision on her next course of action.

It only take Gina a few moments to notice her daughter hovering in the doorway, and when she realizes that this is her daughter standing in front of her, the package nearly slides from her arm. The older woman quickly straightens and her thin lips form a half smile half grimace as she takes a few halting steps in Alabama's direction. The teen backs up a few steps in retaliation, desperately trying to keep distance between herself and the older woman.

"Alabama, honey?" Gina calls softly, ignoring her daughter's obvious attempts at steering clear of her mother's reach. "Baby, is that really you?"

"You don't get to call me that," Alabama barks out, snapping from her shocked haze and returning to her normal, defensive self. "Not after all this time."

"Don't be like that, baby. I've missed you," Gina coos as she's finally able to close the distance between herself and Alabama. She reaches out one perfectly manicured hand towards her daughter, but the southern girl is quick to slap the older woman's hand away from her face.

"I said, don't call me that," Alabama growls out, narrowing her gray eyes dangerously. "Now tell me what in the hell you're doing here with my package."

Gina frowns, but doesn't try and connect with her daughter again. Instead, the older woman glances down at the package still tucked under her arm. "Your package?" she questions, throwing a cautious glance in her daughter's direction. "What in the world do you need a Hand of Glory for?"

"That's none of your damn business. Now answer my question."

The older woman's eyes harden, and she straightens to her full height. "I happen to be the dealer of this artifact, and I didn't want it to end up in the wrong hands. I thought I'd deliver it myself."

Normally, Alabama would have believed the story. Except all the dealer's she'd ever dealt with were less concerned with the product making it to the buyer, and married worried about payment reaching their greedy hands.

"Well that's bullshit," Alabama scoffs with a toss of her dark brown hair. "You and I both know that you could give a shit about your package arrivin' safely. The only reason you're here is because you want more damn money than was originally negotiated."

If it were possible, Alabama is pretty sure she watches as her mother's eyes harden even more, taking on an icy sheen. "Don't speak to me that way," Gina grinds out between her teeth. "I am your mother, and you will speak to me as such."

Alabama lets out a loud bark of laugher, her gray eyes shining with amusement. "Lady, you lost all rights to reprimand me the day you walked out on me and Daddy ten years ago," the southern girl says as she quickly pulls the package out form under her mother's arm and safely clutches it to her chest. "Have a shitty life, bitch."

With that, Alabama turns on her heel and begins purposely striding towards the exit of the back room that will lead her into the post offices library, but she's stopped by her mother's shrill voice cutting through the still air.

"What about my money?"

The southern girl glances back over her shoulder with a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face. "Consider the lack of payment my way of sayin' 'fuck you' for leavin' all those years ago."

And she's gone before Gina can even think of responding.

* * *

><p>Alabama thinks she has gotten off scott free when she doesn't hear anything from her mother for the rest of Saturday or Sunday morning after the post office incident. Naturally, she had to explain to Andy and Rayan why she came home with both the Hand of Glory <em>and <em>the money they had set aside for payment, but both seem rather pleased with the way the southern girl handled the situation. Plus, getting to keep their money is just plain awesome.

But Alabama really should have known better, because her luck is about as bad as it comes.

When the doorbell rings Sunday at in the middle of lunch, Alabama's stomach bottoms out somewhere near her knees. Because the southern girl _knows _that Gina Williams is at the door, ready to make her life a living hell.

Dean is the one who stands and answers the door, and the three teens along with Bobby and Lucas can hear the muted tones of conversation before the door shuts and two pairs of feet weave their way back through the house. And sure enough, moments later both Dean and Gina appear in the kitchen doorway.

"Your mother's here to see you, Alabama," Dean says quietly, hiding his surprise incredibly well. Alabama would normally be impressed if she weren't so annoyed with the woman standing in the doorway with a smug look on her face.

"Miss me, baby?" Gina coos at her daughter, a sickly sweet smile curling along her face.

"Like a whole in the head," Alabama grins right back. The southern girl pushes herself away from the table and makes her way over to her mother, gesturing for the older woman to follow her down the hallway and away from the others. Gina follows without complaint, and Alabama only stops walking when she's sure no one else can hear the conversation. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"Under normal circumstances, I would be here to get my money," Gina sighs while inspecting her ruby red nails as if she's bored with the conversation. "But as soon as I found out you were here with the _Winchesters _of all people, I knew I had to come get you. Leave it to that fool father of yours to leave you with the most dangerous people possible before he died."

"Leave Daddy out of this," Alabama snaps as she takes a step into her mother's space to threaten the older woman. "And what do you mean 'take me away?'"

Gina scoffs and drops her hand, completely unresponsive to her daughter's close proximity. "What do you think I mean? I'm obviously not going to let you stay in the same house with the people who started the apocalypse. Ever supernatural being out there wants a piece of this family, and I refuse to allow my daughter to remain in the line of fire. You're coming with me."

"Like hell I am!" Alabama cries as she steps quickly away from Gina as if she's been burned. "You weren't around for ten years when Dad hauled me all over the country huntin', and _now _you suddenly want to play mother. I don't think so, lady."

"You don't have a choice in the matter," Gina threatens, this time encroaching into Alabama's personal space.

"Yes, she does."

Both woman turn at the sound of Dean's gravely voice from a few feet down the hall, and Alabama can't help the small smile that creeps onto her features. When the southern girl turns a face up towards the older woman, she's pleased to find that Gina looks taken aback.

"You don't get a say in this, Winchester," Gina growls, leveling Dean with a steady glare.

"Actually, I do," Dean replies calmly as he takes the few steps forward to fully join the conversation, planting himself just behind Alabama and laying a gently hand on the teen's shoulder. "Matt had me sign the papers giving me legal guardianship over Alabama after his death. You know, since you weren't anywhere to be found."

"Matt probably faked those papers, just like he faked everything else in his life."

Dean nods his head once, pursing his lips. "You know, that's what I was afraid of. So I had an old friend of mine take a look at the documents, and he cleared everything. It was all real."

Alabama looks up at Dean in awe, and for the first time she can see the hero that saved the world in the older man. The calm confidence and easy smile that could infuriate any of his adversaries. She almost felt bad for her mother in this moment. Almost, but not quite.

"You can't do this," Gina fumes, poking a perfectly rounded nail in Dean's direction. "I'm her mother."

"You are," Dean easily agrees. "But I'm her guardian, and you're _not _taking this girl off this property unless she goes willingly."

"Which by the way, ain't happenin' anytime soon," Alabama cuts in with a smirk. Dean squeezes her shoulder slightly, and she's not sure if it's in encouragement of warning. She chooses to take the safer route and not say anything else.

The southern girl has obviously made the right choice, because Dean barrels onward. "Now Gina, I'm going to suggest that you get out of this house and back on the road to wherever it is you came from. And I will highly recommend that you don't come back, because I don't take kindly to people messing with my family."

"She's not you're daughter!" Gina screeches, nostrils flaring in rage.

"Family doesn't end with blood, Gina."

Alabama feels like crying for the first time in a really long time. Because even though she's lived with the Winchester's for almost six months, she hasn't really felt like a part of the ragtag family until this very moment. The feeling makes her heart swell a little bit in her chest.

Gina, obviously at a loss for any more arguments with the oldest Winchester, addresses Alabama. "This is your last chance, baby. I suggest you walk out that door with me."

Alabama pauses for a moment before answering her mother, and her southern drawl comes out softer than it normally would be. "Sure Gina, I'll walk out the door with you." The southern girl can feel Dean stiffen beside her, but she doesn't let his movement affect what she's about to say. "I'll walk out that door, and Dean's going to join me, because we're both going to make sure you get in your truck and drive away. And I never, and I mean _never_ want to see your betrayin' face around here again."

Gina stands in the hallway for a moment in speechless silence, mouth hanging agape in shock. But it only takes her a few seconds to regain her composure and level an icy glare at the teen. "Fine, you ungrateful bitch."

"Watch your tone, Williams," Dean threatens, his voice becoming hard and threatening for the first time. Gina just scoffs and storms down the hallway and out the front door, with Alabama and Dean trailing behind.

Alabama decides that it's more satisfying this time around as she watches the tires of her mother's Dodge kick up rocks as Gina speeds out of the driveway. Something that is much more final and complete this time around. The southern girl can't stop the smile that spreads across her face at the sight.

Both Dean and Alabama stand on the front porch for a few minutes after Gina's truck is out of sight, letting silence wash over them. But Alabama can't take it for very long, and she catches Dean off guard when she throws her arms around his midsection and buries her head in his chest.

Dean hesitates for a moment, shocked at the normally solitary girl's outward show of affection, before gently wrapping his own strong arms around the teen. After a few moments, he pulls slightly back and looks at the girl with a soft smile. "Can I ask what that was for?"

"You…you said I was family," Alabama answers softly, turning her gray eyes up to meet Dean's green. "Did you mean it?"

"Of course I did. Bobby would be making you pay rent if you weren't." Dean scoffs with a laugh, ruffling Alabama's dark brown hair. "Now, if this chick flick is over, I need to swear you to secrecy. Sam and Ray will never let me live this down if they find out."

Dean's joking, obviously, but Alabama is quick to nod her head in agreement anyway. "Sure thing, Papa Winchester."

Dean smiles at the nickname, before throwing an arm casually over Alabama's shoulders and pulling the teen into the house. And Alabama is sure that this is the closest to having a real family she has ever had.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello all!<strong>

**First off, thank you all for the reviews and kind words! I really appreciate them very much. Secondly, I wanted to say that this story will last twelve chapters, one for each month of the year. Obviously this chapter is Month 3, etc. etc. Anyway, I just wanted to let you all know how long this is expected to last before the legit "sequel" goes up.**

**Fallen.  
><strong>


	4. Month 4

It's in the beginning of November when Dean faces what he would consider his most difficult job as a father to date.

He'd had a particularly long day at the garage trying to replace a valve head on an old Chevy that should have been scraped years ago while simultaneously keeping an eye on Lucas, who wasn't having the best track record since his exile to the garage. Dean still wasn't happy about having the reaper shoved off on him everyday, but he also wasn't going to argue against what little authority his daughter wielded in the situation.

But these two things added together managed to wear Dean out more and more everyday, so when Friday afternoon rolls around the oldest Winchester decides to close up the garage early and head inside to enjoy the rest of his afternoon.

He's standing at the kitchen sink scrubbing the grease and oil off of his hands when the back door flies open, and Rayan stumbles in looking like the world has just crumbled down around her. The moment their green eyes meet, Dean is immediately aware that something is seriously wrong and he is away from the sink and towards his daughter, filthy hands be damned.

But Rayan obviously wants nothing to do with her father's comfort and shoves past him and out of the kitchen with a strangled sob, King following directly behind the teen. A few moments later, Dean hears the distinct sound of his daughter's bedroom door slamming shut. The oldest Winchester just stands in the center of the kitchen, eyes wide and completely confused at the whirlwind that just blew past him.

Before he has a chance to collect his bearings, the back door flies open again and this time it's Andy and Alabama hurrying into the kitchen. Dean tries to ask just what in the _hell _is going on, but Andy shakes his head back and forth before the oldest Winchester can get a single word out.

"Alabama will explain," the teen calls as he half sprints through the kitchen and towards the stairs. "I have a best friend to console."

Dean just blinks at the space once occupied by Andy before turning to Alabama, who is calmly kicking off her boots with a sad look on her face. Now, he's pretty sure that someone must have died if Alabama is looking forlorn.

"You going to explain what in the hell's going on, or should I just assume the worst?"

Alabama sighs and heads towards the table, motioning for Dean to join her. "You're going to want to sit down for this one, Papa Winchester." Dean nods once, and slowly joins the teen at the table even though his entire being is screaming at him to climb the stairs and demand Rayan to tell him what's going on.

But Dean knows he can't do that, because when it comes to emotions Rayan is just like her father. Trying to force the problem out of her when she clearly doesn't want to discuss the situation would only anger her and force her to shut Dean out, which does no one any good. So he tries to remain calm and patient, focusing his full attention on Alabama.

"So, the homecomin' dance is next weekend," Alabama begins with a slight shake of her head. "Me and Ray were plannin' on dressin' Andy up in a penguin suit and forcin' him to be our date, because we obviously weren't expectin' anyone else to ask us."

Dean closes his eyes, because he suddenly has a feeling as to where this story is heading. Where there are dances, there are boys. And where there are boys, there are girls with broken hearts.

Alabama continues with her story, ignoring the tension that has suddenly flowed into Dean's arms and shoulders. "But when we got to school, Rayan's locker was kinda open, like someone had broken into it. And sure enough when we looked inside, there was this big bouquet of white roses and this nice little note. Turns out the captain of the track team had gone through all this trouble to ask her to homecomin'."

Dean was expecting something very similar to come out of Alabama's mouth, but it doesn't make the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach ease any. "So, she's crying upstairs because a guy asked her to a dance?" Dean knows his question is a long shot, and there has to be more to the story, but he can't help but hope anyway.

Sure enough, Alabama shoots Dean an incredulous look. "Men," the teen complains before shaking her head and continuing. "No, that ain't why she's upset. Now let me finish the damn story. So this card tells Rayan to meet Billy, that's the track captain, in the quad after school to give him an answer. Naturally, Ray was gonna say yes, because this is Billy Northman we're talkin' about and he's the finest piece of ass in that school."

"Alabama," Dean interjects, trying to bring the southern girl back on track.

"Right, sorry. Focus. Anyway, so Ray heads to the quad after school, and me and Andy hung back just out of sight," Alabama pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath and shaking her head back and forth sadly. "We knew something was up when a big crowd of people started headin' towards the quad with cameras and phones. We tried to get there, but…we were too late."

Dean watches a serious look of guilt and regret settle itself onto Alabama's face, and he reaches out a gentle hand to try and comfort the girl. "What were you too late for, Alabama?"

The teen looks up at Dean with big, gray eyes that are slightly shiny. "Someone had taken Ray's yearbook picture from last year and photo shopped it onto some chicks body from a skin mag., then put it on a fairly large banner. Billy unrolled it in front of the whole school."

Dean can't stop the fury that builds up in his chest. Not only did someone mess with his daughter, but they completely humiliated her. Rayan didn't deserve that, and all Dean could see was red. He was going to kick that little shit's ass if it was the last thing he ever did.

Jumping up from the table, Dean grabs his keys to the Impala and begins striding towards the back door, intent on hunting down this _Billy Northman_ and doing some serious damage, legality be damned. But Alabama must have seen straight through his intentions, and is already blocking the exit.

"There's more," she half whispers as she gently pushes Dean back towards the table. Once she's certain that the oldest Winchester isn't going to bolt for the door, she finishes her tale. "At the bottom of the banner…he'd had printed somethin' along the lines of 'No one goes to homecomin' with a whore.' The whole thing was caught by about fifty people watchin'."

Alabama waits for Dean to react to this newest piece of information, but when the oldest Winchester just drops his head into his grease stained hands, she's not quite sure how to react. It's not until he begins to speak that she understands what's happening.

"I don't know how to fix this," the oldest Winchester mumbles softly to himself. "I can fix cars, and weapons, and bullet wounds. But I can't fix a teenage girl's broken heart."

He starts when a quiet chuckle escapes Alabama and Dean is quick to shoot Alabama a confused glare, because he just can't understand what she could possibly find funny about this situation.

Once Alabama realizes that she's upset the oldest Winchester, she's quick to explain. "Sorry, but seein' the great Dean Winchester at a loss for a solution is just kinda unexpected," she offers with a shrug. "But it's a good thing you have me here to help you out. Papa Winchester, you _don't _fix this. You _can't_ fix this. But what you can do is climb those stairs, go into Ray's room, and just let her know you're sorry. She don't need fixin', she just needs her daddy."

Dean stares at Alabama for a moment, shocked and confused by how wise she sounded in the moment. "But what about Billy?" he mumbles pathetically.

"You let me handle Billy Northman," Alabama snaps out fiercely. "Boy won't know what hit him when I'm through."

And that's a good enough answer for Dean, so he shoves away from the table for a second time and makes his way towards his daughter's room.

* * *

><p>It takes Dean a full ten minutes of standing outside Ray's room, hand raised in the air to knock before he has the courage to make his presence known. It's not like he doesn't want to comfort his daughter, because he really, <em>really <em>does. He can't stand the thoughts of her being this torn up.

But he also doesn't know what in the world he's going to say to Rayan either. 'I'm sorry' feels so cliché and pathetic, but he knows telling her that life moves on isn't going to help any either.

But either way, he can't hover in the hallway any longer, so he forces his fist forward and knocks lightly on the door three times. There are muffled sounds of movement from inside, and then Rayan's voice, rough and broken, can be heard from the other side.

"Andrew Martin, if you open that door I swear I will kick your ass all the way to Cleveland."

Andy must ignore his friend's threat, because a few moments later the door gently swings open and a flustered teenage boy steps out into the hallway. "Alabama filled you in, right?" he asks Dean quietly, obviously trying to prevent Rayan from hearing most of the conversation. When Dean just nods his head, Andy sighs in relief and ducks around Dean. "She's all yours then."

With that, the young man disappears down the stairs, leaving Dean to fend for himself. He takes the few small steps into Rayan's room and shuts to door quietly behind then. Then, Dean just hovers, unsure of what to do as he looks at his daughter who is stretched out on her bed face down, arms wrapped around King tightly. Dean's unsurprised to find that the dog is gently licking at Rayan's arm as a way of offering comfort to the girl.

"I know this is a chick-flick moment, so I'm giving you a free pass to leave me alone," Rayan grumbles brokenly into her pillow. Dean can't stop the small smile that creeps onto his face at his daughter's bold attitude, and he now knows what to do about this teenage girl's broken heart.

"Thanks, but I'll take a rain check. Save the offer for when you want to talk about sex or something," Dean jokes as he steps over to Rayan's bed and stretches out beside her, laying a gentle hand on top of her hair. "Now, I've watched enough TV to know that in these situations girl's like to either eat a shit ton of ice cream, or make a voodoo doll and curse the bastard that…well, you know."

This elicits a small laugh from Rayan, and she turns her face towards her father. For the first time since entering the room, Dean can see how much his daughter's been crying based on the drying tear tracks and her puffy, red eyes. The sight breaks his heart.

"Nice try, Daddy," she mumbles quietly. "But we both know voodoo dolls never end well, and Gramps ate the last of the chocolate chip cookie dough three days ago."

"Damn, and I was doing so well too." Dean says as he lifts his arm to make room for Rayan against his side. "Well, since those options are out…I guess my next best bet is to ask if you want to talk about it."

Dean feels his daughter stiffen against his side, before she shakes her head back and forth in denial. The oldest Winchester expected nothing less, and gently squeezes his arm that is wrapped around Rayan's shoulders to let her know that he understands.

"Can I just talk for a minute, and you can listen then?" he asks Rayan.

"Yeah, I guess," she answers quietly with a slight nod of her head.

"Okay, good." Dean takes a moment to organize his thoughts, and then begins his little speech. "Back in high school, before my dad let me drop out, I was Billy Northman. I don't mean in the track star way, but in the asshole way."

Dean pauses as he feels Rayan tense up and bury her face into his side, and it doesn't take a genius to realize that she's started crying again. Dean just wraps his arm a little tighter around his daughter and continues. "I'm not proud of that now, and I shouldn't have been proud of it back then, but I do know something that this Billy guy is going to figure out real soon. He's going to realize what an incredibly large fuck up he's made by pulling what he did instead of actually inviting you to that dance."

Rayan's shoulders are shaking now, and Dean himself can feel his eyes starting to heat up and water with his own tears. It must be some genetic thing all father's have that if their daughter's are crying, they have to cry right along with them. "Billy Northman is going to be so upset later in life when he realizes what a beautiful and amazing young woman you are, baby. And he's not going to need me or anyone else to kick is ass for him to realize it, as much as I'd like that to be true."

"You have to say that," Rayan chokes out against Dean's side. "You're my dad. It's like written in the genetic contract at birth."

"Are you kidding, short stuff?" Dean asks with a mock huff, trying to lighten the mood. "Do you see how good looking I am? There is no way that, as my offspring, you could be anything but gorgeous."

His little joke works, because Rayan starts to giggle a little bit, and she raises her face from his side. "I didn't even like him that much," she offers quietly as she turns her green eyes into Dean's own. "It's irrational for me to be this upset."

"It's not irrational, baby," Dean reassures his daughter as he leans down and places a kiss on top of her head. "It's called being human, and it never goes away. But what will go away is the hurt."

"Promise," Rayan asks her father, big green eyes pleading.

"Promise, short stuff."


	5. Month 5

The garage is silent aside from the occasional clanking of metal against metal and the hum of the overhead lights. But it's still early, just after eight in the morning, and Dean is fully aware that in a few short hours there will be cars and trucks steadily streaming in and out looking for his "expertise."

Sixteen years ago, Dean would have laughed at the thought of being an expert in anything but killing.

But it's quiet mornings like this where Dean is sure he's found his little piece of heaven at Singer Salvage. He's got a wonderful family, as mismatched and chaotic as they are, and he gets to tinker around inside cars for hours every day. Dean's pretty sure the only thing that could make his life better is for the slight gut he's developing with his age to recede.

_Not _that he's anything but adorable, even at the ripe old age of thirty-eight.

Dean gulps down the last few swallows of his morning coffee that he's been holding before heading over to the small desk he claimed as his own when Bobby first handed over the rights of Singer Salvage to him. He idly flips through the small scheduling book sitting right on top of the desk, but stops when his fingertips graze the worn picture of himself and Rayan taken when she was three years old. He's still amazed at how much she has grown since then, even if her personality sure hasn't changed.

Dean was pleased with how well his daughter had bounced back after the infamous homecoming debacle. It took his girl a few days, but soon enough she was back to being his confident, self-assured daughter that he, Sam and Bobby had raised. She'd actually managed to cheer up enough to still attend the dance, draped on Andy's right arm with Alabama on his left.

And when Andy explained to Dean later that evening how Billy Northman had _somehow_ tripped and broken his nose, right front tooth and given himself a slight concussion, the oldest Winchester chose to pointedly ignore the scrapes and bruises along both Alabama's and Rayan's knuckles. His daughter was laughing and smiling again, and that's all that mattered.

"Have a good day, Daddy! Love you!"

Dean is brought out of his musings by the sound of Rayan's voice calling from across the lot near the Challenger. When he looks up, he is unsurprised to see both his biological daughter, and his relatively adopted one climbing into the old vehicle.

"Be careful," he calls back with a slight wave of his hand. "And don't blast the radio!"

Dean doesn't have to be next to his daughter to notice the devilish smile that Rayan threw in his direction when she brings the car to full growl, the sound of 'Rock of Ages' pouring from the speakers. With one final wave, the girls are tearing down the old driveway, dirt spitting from behind the tires.

It's only a few minutes later, as Dean is hovering over the engine of a classic Corvette, that the unmistakable sounds of Lucas's cheery whistling announces the reaper's presence. Dean's long since gotten used to Lucas's constant tunes, and he's just glad that it's not the 'Friday' song again.

"Morning, boss," the reaper voices cheerily as he pokes his head in alongside Dean's under the Corvette's hood. "Beautiful weather we're having, isn't it?"

"Lucas, it's the middle of December. It's fucking cold," Dean complains as he turns his green eyes on the young man. When he catches sight of the reaper's clothing, the oldest Winchester lets out a pained sigh. "I thought Rayan took you to buy a few pairs of jeans from the thrift store?"

Lucas looks down at the pair of jeans he's wearing, which are obviously one of the nicer pairs Dean's credit card had to invest in, and shrugs his shoulders. "They were all dirty," the reaper offers as an explanation.

"And you couldn't wash them?"

"Like I know how to run a washing machine," Lucas scoffs as he backs away from the Corvette and grabs the old work shirt from behind the door. "I tell you, dude. Washing machines today are much more complicated than they were back in the forties. There's so many _buttons_…"

Dean rolls his eyes before backing out from under the Corvette's hood himself and wiping his hands the rag poking out of his front pocket. "Whatever you say, sparky," Dean says with a childish smile, brought on by Lucas's scowl at the nickname. "Just don't ruin that pair of pants, because I'm sure as hell not buying you anymore. Now, go out back and grab Mrs. Edward's station wagon. It needs an oil change before you can deliver it back to her house by eleven. Use the second bay."

Dean tosses the keys to the car in Lucas's direction, who frowns but catches them nonetheless and heads out back to retrieve the car. Once the reaper has cleared the building, Dean snickers quietly as he remembers the first month trying to work with the newly visible dead guy. Kid didn't have a clue.

The oldest Winchester is pretty sure that Lucas still might not have one as he watches the reaper pull into the second garage bay and run right over the trashcan.

An hour later, Dean is putting the finishing touches on the Corvette's new check valve when he hears Lucas slam the station wagon's hood down with a triumphant yell.

"Take _that_, you ugly bastard!"

The oldest Winchester snickers as he gently closes the Corvette's hood and turns to face the smiling reaper. "You finally get that oil change done?"

"Finally? What do you mean, _finally_?" Lucas demands as he narrows his blue eyes at Dean. "I just chewed that oil change up and ate it for breakfast!"

"Yeah, and it only took you an hour to do it," Dean mockingly shoots back.

Lucas gets this proud, goofy grin on his face like he's just won the lottery before answering Dean. "I know, right! It's a new record for me!"

Dean can only smile at the jab that has been lost on the reaper, deciding against explaining what he meant and ruining the poor guy's day. Instead, he makes his way over to the small cooler in the corner and pulls out two waters, offering one to the young man beside him. Really, he should be pulling out two beers, but Rayan had been getting on him lately about drinking so much during the day, so Dean has been trying to cut back while he's working in the garage. At least during the week.

Hey, Dean. Can I ask you a question?" Lucas asks as he grabs the offered water from the oldest Winchester's grasp and twists the cap off. When Dean nods is head in approval, the reaper continues. "Have you noticed Rayan and her two cronies acting weird lately?"

Dean takes a sip of his own water, contemplating Lucas's question, but eventually shakes his head. The only time he remembers any of them acting differently was last month with the whole Billy thing. "I haven't noticed anything."

"Really?" the reaper presses, his face screwing up in confusion. "Maybe it's just me, then."

"Why do you ask?" Dean questions, suddenly curious as to why Lucas thinks the three teens have been acting strangely. "Have you seen something?"

"It's more of what I haven't seen," Lucas replies with a casual shrug of his shoulders. The reaper takes a long chug from his water bottle before continuing. "I mean, think about it. It seems like the three of them are always in Ray's room with the door closed, Alabama is constantly taking trips into town, and that's not even the biggest oddity."

"And what would that oddity be?"

Lucas leans in towards Dean, a serious look on his face. "The nerd has been in the library a maximum of three times. _Three_!"

"Who, Andy?" Dean chuckles, shifting away from the reaper and moving back towards his desk to see what's next in his appointment book. "The kid probably just ran out of books to read in there. And Alabama told me she's having any mail that would have been going to her old address forwarded to a P.O. box she set up in town."

"And you believe her?" Lucas demands with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course I do," Dean answers with a shake of his head. "Alabama wouldn't need to lie about something as stupid as a P.O. box. Plus, I've seen a few of the things she brings home. They're addressed to Matthew Williams. Nothing's going on."

Lucas let's the issues go with raised hands and a quick 'okay, boss' so Dean happily returns his focus to the book in front of him, determined to put the idea that the three teens are hiding something from him out of his mind. But naturally, what the reaper has said brings doubts to Dean's mind, and second-guesses. Had he missed something in these last few months?

"Do you really think they'd hide something from us?" Dean asks Lucas. The reaper quickly drops the wrench he was holding and makes his way back towards Dean, obviously more than eager to continue the conversation.

"They're teenagers. They hide everything," Lucas answers with a quick shrug of his shoulders. "I just...if you remember correctly, Rayan gave up the idea of summoning Death way too easy when we got back from Savannah. And while I don't think she'd be crazy enough to figure out a way to bring him here, she is crazy enough to try something else behind everyone's back."

Dean shakes his head back and forth, denying Lucas's theories. "Ray's not dumb enough to do that. She understands the risks she'd be taking by trying something that risky without telling one of us." Dean pauses for a moment before continuing. "Besides, Alabama might agree to help her out if she was thinking along those lines, but Andy would never help her out. He worries about her safety just as much as the rest of us."

Dean and Lucas stand in silence for a while, each trying to convince themselves that their worries are off base. But the more each man thinks on the situation, the more likely their theories seem. "They couldn't get something like this by us, could they?" Dean asks, scrunching his face up in concern.

"She's a Winchester," Lucas answers with a knowing look. "Think about what you and Sam got by each other. Sam drank demon blood for a year, you sold your soul. Hell, you were even almost successful when trying to give yourself up to Michael. There's a lot Ray could sneak by us."**  
><strong>

Dean knows the reaper is right, but a part of him doesn't want to believe that his little girl could be doing something so stupid. "Okay, you have a point," Dean admits grudgingly. "But we can't just accuse them. We need proof, which means the rest of us are going to be watching their asses twenty-four seven."

"Easier said than done, my friend. Easier said than done."

"I'm not your friend," Dean snaps out, but he quickly sends an apologetic glance in the reaper's direction. "Sorry, I'm just a little aggravated. I don't like thinking my kids are sneaking around behind my back, blood or not."

"Oh trust me, I know how you feel," Lucas laughs out with a shrug of his shoulders. "If my superiors find out Rayan has managed to outsmart me, my ass is grass. And there's not a whole lot of work out there for dead guys, even in a garage."

Dean nods once and allows a little smile between himself and Lucas. "Then we're on the same page. Now, take Mrs. Edwards her car back. Just because we're now conspiring with one another, it doesn't mean you get to slack off."

* * *

><p><strong>Hello all!<strong>

**I just wanted to write a quick note letting you know that the next chapter won't be put up until at least Thursday. I have my finals all week, and I'm swamped with studying and packing and everything else that comes along with moving out of college for the summer. But after that, I'm HOME FREE and chapters will resume their regular updates.**

**Love y'all!**

**Fallen.  
><strong>


	6. Month 6

Rayan is on her way to the hospital to visit her aunt, humming along to 'Back In Black', when the sudden shifting of air startles her. After a quick jerk of the wheel, the young Winchester is able to regain control of the car and then focuses an intense glare at her angelic uncle.

"Jesus, Uncle Cas! Can't you make a little more noise next time? I could have driven the damn car off the road."

"My apologies," Castiel answers in his normal monotone voice, doing little more than glance at his niece before focusing his gaze back to the windshield. "I will try to make my presence less startling next time."

Rayan nods her head, gripping the wheel a little more tightly as she waits for the angel to say more. When it becomes apparent that Cas is more than willing to sit next to her in silence, the teen clears her throat and stirs the silence. "Was there something you needed, Uncle Cas?"

"Your father asked me to accompany you to the hospital. He believes that you need the protection."

"Yeah right," Rayan scoffs, annoyance flooding her voice. "More like he just wanted someone to tail me and make sure I'm not doing something I shouldn't be."

Over the last few weeks, it had become painfully obvious that the adults of the household were onto the three teens. Not only was Rayan with someone at all times "for her protection," but Alabama was finding it increasingly difficult to check the P.O. box Andy had set up. Not that the southern girl's lack of mobility mattered all that much, because Andy couldn't find five minutes alone to track down the items they needed from sellers, whether he was at the salvage yard or in his own home.

But the adults still weren't sure what the teens were up to _exactly_, so their secret was still safe.

Or so Rayan thought.

"You are right," Castiel states calmly to his niece. "Dean did send me here to look after you. He believes that my presence will ensure that you are not attempting to summon Death. However, we both know that I will not find your preparations here, but at home under a loose floorboard in Alabama's bedroom."

This time, Rayan does manage to lose control of her Challenger, and she just manages to pull it over to the side of the road before hitting a mailbox. The young Winchester _swears_ that her life flashes before her eyes in that moment, and she's positive that she will never see the light of day again once the angel informs Dean of just what she and the others have been doing for all these months.

"How did you know?" she demands once she can actually breathe again.

"I'm an angel," Castiel offers as his only explanation, but his tone holds no hint of smugness or pride. It's more like the angel is simply talking about the weather.

Rayan sighs and bangs her head against the steering wheel of the car in defeat. "When are you going to tell Dad?"

There is a moment of silence, before Castiel's hand lands gently on Rayan's shoulder and gives what the teen assumes to be a small squeeze of reassurance. "I am not planning on telling Dean about any of this."

"You're not?"

"No," Castiel replies with a small smile, very uncharacteristic of the angel. "I believe that you are doing the right thing, contacting Death in this manner. It is imperative for us to understand why you have these abilities in order for us to better protect you. If Death is the only person who knows, then it is imperative you speak with him."

Rayan can't help her smile of complete exuberance and the feeling of hope that thrums through her veins. "This is so _excellent_," she cries as she grasps her uncle's arm tightly. "Do you know how much easier it's going to be getting these last few items with an angel on our side, Uncle Cas? We won't have to worry about shipping, or hiding things anymore. This is so awesome!"

Castiel is quick to shake his head back and forth, leaving Rayan with a sudden loss of hope that she had only moments before. "I will not help you gather the items, Rayan," the angel states quickly. "I cannot work against Dean in that manner. But I will attempt to keep he and the others from finding out your true plans. Maybe this will make it easier for you and the others to resume your search."

Even though Rayan is disappointed, she is willing to nod her head in acceptance for what she is getting, and leaves the conversation at that. After all, things could have been a lot worse if Castiel didn't agree with her current course of action. Without saying another word, Rayan gently pulls the Challenger away from the side of the road and continues her journey towards the hospital, only wincing slightly when the air shifts as Castiel abandons the car.

* * *

><p>The young Winchester has been seated at Maggie's bedside for almost an hour, reading her aunt articles from the latest Entertainment Weekly, when Rayan feels a hand on her shoulder.<p>

Expecting it to be no one more than one of the nurses or Maggie's doctor, the teen doesn't look up from the article she's reading and merely addresses he presence behind her. "Just give me five minutes to finish this review of the new Liam Hemsworth movie and I'll get out of your hair."

"Why would I want you to leave? You've only just gotten here."

Rayan stands so fast that she topples the old plastic chair over. Because that light, airy voice that spoke behind her doesn't belong to any of the hospital staff the young Winchester has ever met. In fact, Rayan could place that voice out of millions.

But she obviously has to be wrong about the mysterious person's identity, because Maggie is lying in her hospital bed.

Rayan slowly turns around, clutching the magazine so tightly in her hands that she's sure Liam's face isn't going to survive her iron grip. The teen doesn't want to face the sight in front of her; doesn't want to realize that now she can do something else incredibly crazy like see astral projections of coma patients. In fact, Rayan's sure she'd rather just be crazy.

But naturally, when she is finally able to raise her green eyes up from the floor, Maggie Winchester is standing directly behind the chair with a soft smile spread across her face. The woman's dark brown hair is curly and full of life, unlike the lack luster strands lying on the hospital pillow. Even the woman's skin is full of color, as compared to her still-in-a-coma body.

"Well are you just going to stand there, or are you going to give your aunt a hug now that I'm corporeal?"

Those words and the soft voice that speaks them is all that it takes for Rayan to launch herself the few feet and into Maggie's arms. She doesn't even stop to think of how crazy this all probably is, or to consider that this could be some elaborate trap set up by the demons. All Rayan cares about is the fact that the only real female presence in her life is finally talking to her again after two years of lying in a hospital bed.

"How…how is this even _possible_?" Rayan stutters out after a few moments of desperately clinging to her aunt's petite form. "You're still lying in bed."

"Obviously," Maggie jokes as she pulls away from Rayan and holds her niece at arms length. "I've been trying to talk to you for almost eight months now, Ray. But today was the first time you've been open enough for me to break through. _You _are the one making this happen."

"This is another one of my freaky abilities, isn't it?" Rayan asks with a heavy sigh. "I should have known this couldn't just be some wonderful surprise."

Maggie gently holds Rayan's face between both of her hands and gives the young Winchester a stern look. "Don't complain about your gifts, Rayan. They're amazing, and so much more than you could ever imagine."

"Wait, you know what's going on with me?" the teen questions as she pulls away from her aunt's gentle grasp. "You know why I can see all these people after they've died, or now apparently why I can see coma patients?"

Maggie nods her head up and down, but holds up a hand when Rayan opens her mouth to say more. "Don't even ask me, Ray. I can't tell you anything about them, as ordered by the reaper that's been hounding my ass for two years." This statement peaks the young Winchester's interest, but Maggie continues on before Rayan can get a word in edgewise. "And before you start freaking out about being able to see coma patients, you need to know that I'm a special case. You won't be able to see everyone."

"What do you mean, you're a special case?" Rayan questions softly.

"I mean that I was supposed to die five days after I was put in this hospital."

Maggie's words hit Rayan with all of the force of a freight train, but she finds herself shaking her head in denial all the same. "That's not possible. You're just in a coma. You'll be fine."

"You and I both know that's not true, Ray," Maggie replies with a softness that only she could manage. "The only reason I'm still here is because Death sent a messenger to offer me a deal. If I was willing to hang around until you had accepted your powers enough to see me and not tell you about what I know concerning your abilities, I could give Sam a proper goodbye."

"You mean like, he'd be able to see you one last time?" Rayan asks her aunt quietly.

At this, Maggie frowns and drops her gaze to the tiled floor beneath her bare feet. "Not exactly," the woman sighs softly. "That's part of the reason why I had to wait for you. You'll be the connection between your uncle and me. You'll be able to tell him exactly what I'm saying."

"And that's supposed to be closure for who?" Rayan demands angrily, throwing the magazine she's been clutching down one the small end table next to Maggie's bed. "Is it supposed to be good for Uncle Sam, hearing his niece be the mouth for his dying wife? Or is it supposed to be good for me, watching my uncle literally fall apart when he realizes that his wife really is going to be gone? I can't do that Aunt Maggie. Not to Uncle Sam."

Rayan knows she's being unfair towards her aunt, who has waited two years to move on just so she can speak with her husband one last time, even if it is indirectly. But agreeing to this would mean Rayan would be agreeing to let her aunt die, and it's just too heartbreaking for the teen to understand. Hasn't her family been through enough?

"Please, Rayan," Maggie quietly whispers the two words so gut wrenchingly soft that all Rayan can do is stare at her aunt for a moment before nodding her head and pulling out her phone to call her uncle with tears in her eyes.

"Uncle Sam? You need to come to the hospital."

* * *

><p>Even though it only takes Sam fifteen minutes to drive the short distance to the hospital from the college, Rayan is sure that she's been there for an eternity. But when the youngest Winchester brother tears into his wife's room, looking frantic, the teen wishes she had another five hours to prepare herself.<p>

"Rayan?" Sam asks breathlessly once he realizes there is no immediate danger to his niece or wife. If only he really knew. "What's the matter?"

"You're going to want to sit down for this," Rayan mumbles quietly as she gestures to the abandoned plastic chair next to Maggie's bed. The teen waits for Sam to settle into the uncomfortable piece of furniture before continuing. "So, there's someone here who want to speak to you Uncle Sam."

Sam takes a quick glance around the room before turning his confused, hazel eyes in Rayan's direction. "Ray, there's no one else here besides you and me."

"You might not be able to see anyone else, but I can."

It only takes Sam a moment to realize that his niece is referring to her abilities, and then only seconds longer to realize that the only reason that Rayan would have called him of all people is if the person she was seeing was directly involved with him.

And that meant Maggie.

"Rayan, please tell me it's not Mags you're seeing," Sam quietly begs his niece, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

When Rayan only looks down at the floor and mumbles an apology, Sam feels his heart shatter and can't stop the tears that begin to fill his eyes. "

She wants to say goodbye to you, before she has to leave," the teen mumbles out. Sam just shakes his head back and forth, obviously denying what his niece has just told him, but Rayan presses forward. "She has waited for two years to see you one last time. Don't waste this opportunity."

"There is no opportunity," Sam growls out, suddenly looking up at his niece with such intensity that Rayan takes a step backwards from her uncle. "There's no opportunity because Maggie is not going to die. We're going to figure out a way to help her, to get her out of this."

Rayan catches her aunt bringing a hand up to her mouth, the grief obvious in the woman's eyes. And Rayan wishes that she could use her abilities for something useful. Something that could actually help her aunt and uncle in this situation, instead of bringing the pair more heartache. In an attempt to at least comfort one of her family members, the young Winchester slowly reaches out and grasps her aunt's hand in her own.

And that's when it happens.

Rayan feels like a spark flies through her body and down her arm into her fingertips, and she's not exactly sure how it happens, but suddenly Sam is on his feet and staring directly at his wife. And not the wife that is lying in the hospital bed.

"Maggie?" Sam asks quietly, disbelief clouding his voice.

"You can see me?" Maggie asks right back, her own voice cracking once. When Sam nods, she let's out a half-laugh half-sob before looking down at her hand connected to Rayan. "This must be because of you."

"Maybe this is what Death meant by me helping you say goodbye," Rayan responds with a slight smile. "So lets go say goodbye, shall we?"

Sam is obviously still in shock at suddenly seeing his wife, and only breaks out of whatever trance he's in when Maggie gently places a hand on his cheek. The man is quick to respond my pulling his wife in and wrapping her in a hug as he lets out a shuddering breath. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, Sam," Maggie responds as she grips the back of Sam's shirt tightly in her fist.

"You're not leaving me," Sam demands suddenly. "Carson needs you. _I _need you. Nothing has been right since you've been gone."

Maggie smiles slightly as she pulls away from Sam, shaking her head back and forth. "You boys are going to be just fine without me, baby. You're a wonderful father, Sam Winchester. Don't ever doubt that." There's a pause in the conversation as Maggie just stares at her husband's face for the last time, but the moment ends too soon. "I have to go."

"No," Sam demands as he grips Maggie tighter, tears steadily falling from his eyes. "I won't let you do this, Mags."

"You don't have a choice," Maggie argues before standing on her tiptoes and placing a chaste kiss on Sam's lips. It's the barest of touches, but Rayan's sure that the moment is more profound than any declaration of love she's ever witnessed before. "I love you."

Rayan can see the resignation in her uncle's eyes as Maggie speaks, but it's shattering all the same when he actually speaks. "I love you too, Mags."

The woman smiles briefly at the two of them. "I'll see you again soon, Sam, but not too soon. Tell Carson that I love him." And with nothing more than a simple fade away, Rayan feels the connection with her aunt disappear.

And Maggie Winchester disappears along with it.


	7. Month 7

Rayan can't believe that it only takes a month for life around the salvage yard to return to normalcy after Maggie's death.

Of course, there are the obvious problems that still come up, because Sam is still hurting something terrible. In fact, Rayan's sure that she has overheard her uncle telling Bobby about how he keeps driving to the hospital after work, forgetting that Maggie is no longer there. Or how he still can't read Carson 'The Little Engine That Could' because it was always Maggie's thing for her son.

But other than that, everyone else seems normal. Maybe it's because everyone else in their goofy little family had suffered the loss of someone close before, and Rayan was the only one in the bunch who really hadn't. Sure the young Winchester had lost her mother, but you can't really understand that loss when you're only a few hours old.

"The supplier for the Egyptian tomb dust just got back to me," Andy says as he strides into Rayan's room, Alabama close on his heels. "Said we need to pick up from him by five a.m., or he's taking the product and bolting."

"And how the hell are we supposed to pull that off?" Rayan demands as she sits up on her bed and stares down the other two teens, completely forgetting about her previous train of thought. "It's not like we can just waltz out of the house."

Alabama snickers from her seat at Rayan's desk. "I've got it covered…if you think you can sneak around Daddy Dearest."

"All we've been doing is sneaking around my Dad for the last seven months," Rayan scoffs. "So what's the plan?"

"We're gonna sneak out, obviously."

"Genius plan, Alabama," Andy mocks from the end of the bed. "A monkey could have come up with that solution."

Alabama sends a glare in the teen's direction, but continues on without verbally acknowledging his remark. "Geek boy over here is gonna go home tonight, as normal, while you and I wait for everyone here to pass out. As soon as that happens, we sneak out to the Challenger, push it down the driveway, drive to Andy's and pick him up, nab the dust, and come home. No one will be the wiser."

"Until we get caught," Andy grumbles as he turns his attention to Rayan. "You can't seriously think that Alabama's plan is sound enough to actually work. It's like every teenage master plan gone wrong."

Rayan is silent for a few moments, a look of deep concentration on her face. "You're right, Andy."

Alabama automatically gives a noise of protest from her throat, but Rayan quickly holds up a hand to stave off the other girl's angry words. With Alabama silenced for a moment, the young Winchester quickly hops off her bed and rushes over to her desk, pulling open the top drawer and withdrawing a small stack of newspaper clippings and printed research.

Throwing the stack down on the bed between Alabama and Andy, Rayan smears a wicked grin on her face. "_This _is going to be added to our big plan."

"What _is _this?" Andy asks, reluctance seeping into his tone.

It's not Rayan who responds the teen, but Alabama. "_This_, my wonderful bookworm, is a hunt. Hot _damn_, Ray! Who knew you were such a little deviant."

"A hunt?" Andy panics, his voice raising an octave in surprise. "Why did a hunt suddenly become of a part of this plan?"

"I was going to hand it over to Gramps in the morning," Rayan explains with a shrug. "Figured he could send someone out on it, or maybe even Dad would go because it's a simple salt and burn. But look, the spirits grave is right next to the train station. It'll be a simple salt and burn, so we'll get the dust, a hunt, and some exercise all in one night."

"You know, for a northern girl, you got a whole lot of southern thinkin'," Alabama jokes as she flips through the pages of notes. "I'm totally down with this plan."

"Well I'm not!" Andy demands as he stands from the bed and begins to pace back and forth. "This is a bad idea you guys. Dean has made it _perfectly _clear that he wants none of us dealing with the supernatural. It's bad enough that we're sneaking around behind his back with this who summoning ritual. But going on an actual _hunt?_ That's just having a death wish!"

Rayan's pretty sure she's going to throw up from watching Andy pace around in circles, so she snakes a hand out to still her best friend's movements. "Andy, relax. Dad is never going to find out about this.

If the young Winchester had been thinking clearly, she wouldn't have said those last words aloud. Because lets face it, as soon as you say someone won't find out about something…they always do. But at the time, she's too distracted by her exuberance when Andy agrees to go along with the new plan with a reluctant nod of his head and a heavy sigh.

"We're totally going to get our asses kicked."

* * *

><p>Dean's not sure what wakes him up at two thirty in the morning, but one moment he's having the best dream about apple pie and scantily clad women and the next his green eyes are popping open and all he can think about is checking on Rayan.<p>

As he walks down the hall from his own bedroom, the oldest Winchester knows that he's being irrational because it's early as shit and everyone is asleep. But he cracks open the old door all the same, planning on checking on his daughter quickly.

Only her bed is empty.

"Son of a bitch," Dean curses as he backs away from the door and proceeds to march down the hallway to Alabama's room. Because Dean has the sinking feeling that the other teen will be missing too. And sure enough, as soon as he swings the door open it is painfully obvious that this bedroom is also empty.

It takes the oldest Winchester all of three minutes to have both Bobby and Lucas up and moving around, actively trying to figure out where the two teens could have ran off too. And Dean is seeing nothing but red, swearing up and down in his mind that as soon as he is assured that both of the teens are safe and sound, he's going to kill them.

"The Challenger's gone," Bobby announces as he stomps back into the house and collapses onto the old sofa in the living room. "The idjits were smart enough to push that car down to the road so the engine wouldn't wake anyone up."

"I can't find her either," Lucas adds as he descends the stairs and joins the other men. "They're wearing something that's blocking me from them."

Dean scoffs and runs a hand through his short hair. "That would be Andy's doing, so he must be in on it too." He wants to shoot something, or punch a wall. Anything to relieve some of the intense anxiety that's threatening to overwhelm him at the moment. Instead, he settles for more yelling. "Damn it, I'm going to kill them. Actually, I'm_ not _going to kill them. I'm going to lock them both in their rooms until their eighty and incapable of sneaking out."

"I believe you will be dead at that point, Dean."

The oldest Winchester whips around to send a nasty glare towards Castiel, who has appeared at the entrance to the living room looking no more concerned than he would be if the sun were simply setting.

"You're lucky I need your help, Cas," Dean snaps out as he approaches the angel. "Or I would totally kick your ass. Now help me find my girls."

Cas ignores Dean's tone and instead fixes the older man with one of his trademark stares. "That will not be necessary. I know exactly where our three charges currently are. Did you honestly expect me to allow my niece to leave the house unwatched?"

"You know where they are!" Dean explodes, hands flying through the air and towards Castiel to grab his tan trench coat. "You knew they were sneaking out, and you didn't try to stop them? Are you fucking _crazy?_"

"No, Dean," Cas argues, simply watching the older hunter calmly as Dean grips his coat. "I am perfectly sane. I just believe that what they are doing is important and imperative to each other their future well beings."

At this point, Bobby has stood from his place on the coach and made his way over to the irate Dean and annoyingly calm Castiel. "All right you idjits, that's enough. Dean, let go of the angel," the old hunter demands as he pries Dean's fingers off of Castiel. "Now Cas, _please_ tell us just what in the hell those three are doing before Daddy here has a coronary."

Castiel shifts his blue-eyed gaze towards Bobby and nods slightly. "Rayan found a hunt relatively close that she believed she and her friends could handle. They decided to take on the task of a 'simple salt and burn' themselves without telling anyone, because Rayan is fully aware that Dean would never let her attempt a hunt otherwise."

"Damn right, I wouldn't!" Dean explodes, a single vein is his neck throbbing wildly. "She's not ready to handle something like this."

"If it were up to you Dean, Rayan would never be ready to handle the supernatural world in which she lives," Castiel snaps, his voice losing it's calm demeanor for the first time that evening. "If it were up to you, the world would allow you to forever play the role of protective and overbearing father. Unfortunately, this is not our world."

"Well, it's going to be Ray's!" Dean seethes as he points a finger at the angel, oblivious to Bobby's attempts at staying between the two. "This life of mine isn't for her. She's going to be normal, damn it."

"You know as well as I do that Rayan is anything but normal," Cas demands, returning Dean's anger with equal force. "Not only does she have these abilities of which we know nothing about, but she is also a _Winchester_. Her blood has been marked from birth. So whether you like it or not, Rayan will never have the ideal life you wish to give her."

Dean continues to clench his jaw in pure anger, but he doesn't respond the angel's last words. Because as much as the oldest Winchester hates to admit it, Castiel has a point.

When the angel is sure that Dean isn't going to argue further, he speaks in a much calmer tone. "I simply came her to reassure you that all three teenagers are being looked after, and that they will return before sunrise, safe and relatively unharmed." With that, Castiel disappears in a flutter of wings, leaving a stunned Dean in his wake.

"What do you mean _relatively unharmed_?"

* * *

><p>Rayan knows they're in deep shit the moment she and Alabama push the Challenger up the driveway and the house comes into sight, revealing several lit windows and the silhouette of a pacing Dean.<p>

"Shit," Alabama curses next to Rayan. "So much for Papa Winchester not finding out."

Rayan nods her head in agreement, the dread settling deep in her stomach. "At least we got the tomb dust _and _the ghost, even if the latter was a little trickier than expected."

And the young Winchester isn't exaggerating that fact. What was supposed to be a simple dig up the grave and burn the bones turned into an all out war between the three teens and one William H. Goodfellow. The damned old man was apparently attached to something in his coffin, allowing him to travel to the cemetery.

And apparently old Willy wasn't too impressed with anyone trying to cook him.

It was a good thing that the three teens showed up more than prepared, and managed to walk away with a few cuts and bruises. Andy ended up getting the worst end of the deal with a black eye, which he complained about the entire ride back to his house. Not that it was painful enough to stop him from throwing in a few "I told you so" remarks on the side.

When Alabama swings the front door of the house open, not bothering to try and hide their presence, Dean is immediately in front of them. After an initial once over to make sure no one is in life threatening peril, he simply points up the stairs and towards Rayan's bedroom. The teens waste no time in following his orders, and scurry up the stairs to await their demise.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, Rayan's bedroom door swings open and Dean quietly steps into the room, firmly shutting the door behind him. It's in this moment that Rayan is expecting her father to completely rip her and Alabama a new one, so she's surprised when Dean simply pulls them into a bone-crushing hug.<p>

"Thank god you two are okay," the oldest Winchester murmurs as he places a kiss on each of his girls foreheads. "Scared the shit out of me when I woke up and you were gone."

"We're sorry, Dad," Rayan begins to say, but Dean holds up his hands to silence her apology.

"Just shut up," he states bluntly, straightening up and glaring down at the two teens. "I don't want to hear any excuses, or explanations. Hell, you could tell me it was a matter of life and death and I wouldn't give a shit. Because the fact of the matter is, you three snuck around behind my back. You could have gotten yourselves _killed_, you know that? And so soon after your aunt died! I mean, do you even understand how worried we all were?"

Rayan's not sure if her father wants them to respond, but when Alabama mumbles out a quick "yes sir," Rayan swiftly follows.

"Glad we all understand that," Dean says with a nod of his head. "Now, other than the fact that you're each grounded for a month from all forms of social interaction or entertainment outlets, we have the matter of your sudden urge to want to _hunt_ to deal with. Mind telling me where this is coming from?"

Rayan looks to Alabama, who simply shrugs her shoulders and takes a step back. "This one's all yours, Ray."

"Thanks," Rayan scoffs before turning back to face her father. "I don't know, Dad. I guess…ever since the Meg thing…and then there's the fact that this family is just _made_ to be hunters…it's just something I think I need to do."

"No, what you need to do is go to school, get a job, _never _get married, and live the normal apple pie life. Hunting isn't for you."

"You don't know that," Rayan protests, stepping closer to her father. "You just don't want me to try it. But Dad, I can _feel_ that it's the right thing for me. Helping people, getting rid of he bad guys…I can't do that with a college education and a desk job."

"Social work," Dean bites out.

Rayan rolls her eyes in her father's direction. "Stop being stubborn. Now, I know I'm already in deep shit, so I might as well add to the pot. You can ground me and forbid me from every going hunting again, but the truth is that that won't stop me. I'm going to keep hunting, with or without your approval. I'd rather it be with, but that's not a necessary stipulation."

Dean stares at his daughter for a long time, and finally sighs and rubs his hand through his hair. "I'm too old for this shit," he grumbles. "Listen, we'll finish talking about this at a decent hour. For the time being, you two get to bed. And I want you both back up and dressed at 7:30 tomorrow. Grounding begins then."

"That's only three and a half hours from now!" Alabama protests with a disgusted look.

"Hey, you two are the ones who wanted to live the hunting lifestyle. Pay the price," Dean smirks as he heads towards the bedroom door. "Oh and by the way, inform Andy that he's grounded for a month too. The kid was just as much a part of this as you two were."


	8. Month 8

Dean is just getting ready to dive under the hood of a 1975 Ford F150, wrench in hand, when his phone begins to blare out an AC/DC song from its place on the nearby workbench. Sighing, the oldest Winchester tosses the wrench onto the oil-stained garage floor and takes the few steps towards the dinging device, muttering under his breath about interruptions the whole way.

But as soon as he sees Rayan's name displayed across the screen, his annoyance flies out of the window. Considering that it's only a little after eleven, and Rayan should be in class, Dean figures that she's calling for a pretty important reason.

"Ray?" Dean says once he has his phone flipped open. "What's going on?"

"Something's wrong," the teen starts off, ignoring pleasantries and cutting straight to the chase; another of the traits she picked up from her father.

"Why do you think something's wrong, short stuff?"

"It's Andy, Dad," she says, and Dean can hear the slight tremble in his daughter's voice that only makes an appearance when she's truly worried about something. "He didn't show up for school this morning, and you know that Andy never misses school. At least not without sending me a text or something. Alabama and I are seriously freaking out."

Dean has to admit that it is completely out of the ordinary for the teen to not contact anyone about missing school. Especially considering that if Andy was ever sick, he normally opted to spend the day lounging on Bobby's couch instead of recovering in his own home with his father. "And you tried calling him?" Dean asks, rubbing a hand through his short hair.

"Four times," Rayan assures her father. "And Alabama tried three. He's just not picking up."

Dean sighs why he thinks of the best way to handle the situation. "I'm sure Andy's fine, Ray. He's probably just sleeping and didn't hear his phone go off. It's probably nothing."

"It's possible…" Rayan answers, the hesitation clear in her voice.

"But?"

Dean's prompt must be all Rayan needs to argue her worries further, because it takes the teen all of a millisecond to begin chattering away in her father's ear again. "But when Andy didn't answer his cell phone, we decided to call his house because his dad was supposed to be out of town for some poker tournament. That's why Andy didn't stay the night at our house last night. Anyway, when we called Andy's dad answered the phone…and he sounded pretty smashed."

Dean can feel the tension seep into his muscles as he takes in the information his daughter has given him. Where Andy's father is concerned, nothing good ever occurs. "Are you _positive_ that you dialed the right number, Rayan?"

"Of course I did!" Ryan scoffs in annoyance. "I think I'd know my best friends phone number, thank you very much. Now, do you think you could call the school and say that Alabama and I both have appointments or something this afternoon? We want to drive over there and make sure Andy's okay."

"Hell no I'm not going to call the school," Dean answers, his tone implying that he thinks his child is crazy. Which a large part of his current thinks she is. "I'm not going to let you go over there when Old Man Martin could be drunk off his ass. The man's violent with his own kid, so what do you think he'd do to a couple of strange girls?"

"Rayan huffs on the other hand, and Dean knows that an argument is well on its way. "Well what do you expect us to do? We can't just sit here and hope for the best. Andy could be hurt."

"Which is why you're going to stay in school, and I'm going to drive over to Andy's house and check on him. Bring him back to Bobby's. Deal?"

There's a pause in the conversation, and Dean can just see the look of annoyance and anger on his daughter's face. But the oldest Winchester knows he has won when the exasperated sigh comes through from the other end of the line. "Fine. But _call me_ when you find him, okay? I'm seriously freaking out."

"Of course, Ray. Now get back to class," Dean admonishes lightly before hanging up the phone. As soon as he hears the click of the call ending, he grabs the Impala's keys off the workbench and heads out of the garage, work be damned.

Because one of his kids needs him.

* * *

><p>The drive to Andy's house only takes about fifteen minutes, and Dean wastes no time pulling the Impala into the small driveway. Dean immediately notices that his car isn't the only one in the driveway, but there is also an old Honda Civic. It's the oldest Martin's car, which is a sure sign that he's home.<p>

Dean takes a moment to scan the surrounding area of Andy's house, taking in the white two-story home with the blue shutters, and the well-manicured lawn with the white rose bushes. The damn place looks like a house right out of Pleasantville.

But Dean knows better. He knows that the outside of the house does nothing to hint at the lifestyle within its walls. Inside, there's a drunken father and a terrified son.

Dean is going to get at least one of them out.

The oldest Winchester marches up the brick sidewalk and onto the front porch, wasting no time to pound on the door. It's takes a minute, and Dean can hear the mumbled curses and stumbling steps of someone from the other side of the door. But soon enough, the heavy oak entryway is swinging open, revealing Andy's father.

Bill Martin is wearing a business suit, his red tie slightly askew. He's holding an open beer bottle in one hand, and is using the other to prop himself up in the doorway, his hooded eyes blinking slowly. The man is obviously way past drunk, and Dean has to hold back the urge to punch the other man straight in the jaw.

"Who the fuck are you?" Martin asks, he words slurring together slightly.

Dean cringes and takes a step back away from the foul stench of the other mans breath, but answers all the same. "My name's Dean Winchester. You're son and my daughter are friends."

"And is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Dean clenches his jaw, working hard to ignore the rising level of anger that's threatening to consume him. "No, I don't suppose it does."

Before Dean has a chance to continue, Martin is interrupting him with slurred speech once again. "Then why are you on my front porch?"

"Andy didn't show up for school," Dean bites out, clenching his grease-stained fists at his sides. "My daughter was concerned because it's unlike Andy to miss a day, so I told her I'd come over here and check on him. Make sure he didn't need anything."

"Well you're wasting your fucking time, because the little shit ain't here," Martin replies before slowly stepping back from the doorway and jerkily starts to close the door. "Now get off my property."

Dean is quick to throw his hand out, stopping the door from closing in his face. "What do you mean Andy isn't here?"

"Just what the fuck it sounds like," the other man scoffs before taking another swig of his beer. "The little faggot took off last night. I haven't seen or heard from him since."

That's all it takes for Dean to lose what little bit of control he had managed to maintain, and in the blink of an eye the oldest Winchester is through the doorway and throwing Bill Martin up against a wall inside of the home. The other man lets out a grunt and drops his beer, which clatters against the cool tile floor.

"That is your _son_," Dean growls out, holding a tight grip on Martin's collar with both of his fists. "You don't talk about him like that, you son of a bitch."

Despite the position that the other man finds himself in, he still laughs in Dean's face. "Why the fuck not? That's what his is. A. Little. _Faggot_."

One punch is all it takes, and Bill Martin's nose is broken and gushing blood. The drunken man lets out a startled cry of pain and surprise, looking meekly up at Dean through stricken blue eyes. "What the _fuck _man?"

"You don't talk about the kid like that," Dean growls out as he once again throws the other man up against the wall. "He's your fucking son, so you show him some respect. Because that seventeen-year-old kid is three times the man you'll ever be in your worthless life. Now tell me where Andy is."

"Shit man, I don't know!" Martin cries out as he struggles to put a hand up to his bleeding nose. "I told you that the little fucker wasn't here. But don't worry, because he always comes crawling back."

Another quick shot, and Bill Martin is screeching in pain once again as Dean's fist connects solidly with his nose again. Dean doesn't give Martin a chance to dwell on the pain however, because he's quickly pulling up on the man's collar and getting right in his face. "No, Andy won't be coming home. Because as soon as I find him, he's going back to my place where he will be living for as long as he sees fit. I'm not letting him come back here to a piece of shit father like you."

"You can't do that!" the other man splutters out. "He's my kid. I'll fucking press charges!"

"He's not your kid, he's your fucking punching bag!" Dean demands as he shoves against Martin. "And if you so much as try to contact that boy again, I will come back here and kill you myself. And then I'll bury your body where _no one _will ever find it. Not that someone would look for a piece of shit like you."

With that, Dean throws a thoroughly stunned and terrified Bill Martin down onto the tiled floor and exits the home, slamming the oak door behind him.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Dean feels like he's searched the entire town of Sioux Falls without so much as a hint of where Andy could be. It's like the kid has just up and disappeared, and the oldest Winchester is really starting to worry. Dean was always so sure that Andy knew he had a home at the salvage yard, and he just can't stop worrying about why the teen wouldn't go to them right away.<p>

It's not until Dean is stopped at a stoplight and a Greyhound bus pulls up behind him that Dean even considers the option that Andy might have gone to the bus station. And then the oldest Winchester is even more concerned, because it's been long enough that the teen might have been able to hop on a bus and be halfway to anywhere by now.

It's take him another twenty minutes of speeding through back country roads, but Dean eventually makes it to the station. He pulls the Impala into a parking space, tires squealing loudly, and wastes no time in jumping out and rushing into the small waiting room.

After a quick scan of the area, Dean catches sight of a lanky teenage boy with brown hair huddled down in the corner of the station, and Dean feels like he can breathe again. Andy is apparently trying to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible, resting his forehead on his folded up knees and hiding his face, keeping him from noticing Dean until the oldest Winchester reaches him and lays a gentle hand on the teens shoulder.

Andy jumps, startled by the sudden presence of another person and tries to scramble back and away from Dean, farther into the corner. It's not until the teen lifts his face and realizes that it's Dean and not another random stranger that Andy stops struggling and goes limp.

Dean feels the anger and heartache rise up in him again when he exams Andy's face and takes in the bruised cheek and split forehead. Bill Martin had really done a number on his son, and it makes Dean sick. The oldest Winchester slowly reaches out to grasp Andy's chin and turn his face a little to closer inspect the wounds, but Andy flinches back and away from Dean.

"Don't," he murmurs, his voice soft and broken.

Dean pulls his hand away from Andy's face, but rests it on the teen's shoulder instead. "Are you all right, kid?"

"I'm fine," he mumbles, pulling his coat closer around him and looking down at the scuffed and dirty station floor. "Just waiting for my bus."

Dean wants to demand to know what the kid is getting on a bus instead of sitting on Bobby's old couch, but something tells him that it might be better to not pressure the young man. Instead, Dean sits down next to the teen against the wall. "So, where you heading?"

Andy brings his face up to look at Dean, confusion crossing his bruised features. "Uh, Cleveland," he answers softly.

"Cleveland, huh?" Dean responds, dropping his head back against the wall casually. "I hear they have some pretty good food there, but their sports teams suck."

A small laugh escapes the teen next to him, making Dean crack a smile of his own at the improvement. "It's a good thing I don't like sports then."

"Good thing." Dean waits a moment, letting a comfortable silence fall between the two before continuing on to more noteworthy conversation. "So, you going to tell me why you're heading to Cleveland?"

Andy ducks his head once again when Dean lifts his head off the wall and looks at the teen, so the oldest Winchester gently nudges his shoulder against Andy's own, prompting the young man to talk. It must work, because Andy takes in a shuddering breath before answering. "I can't live with my dad anymore, Dean."

"All right," Dean answers with a nod. "But there are other places to go than Cleveland, dude."

"Like where?" Andy scoffs. "I can't afford to live in a city like New York or Chicago."

"I wasn't talking about leaving South Dakota, Andy. I'm talking about the salvage yard."

Andy drops his head and toys with a loose string on his jacket sleeve. "I can't stay with you guys."

"And why the hell not?" Dean demands, turning his body to face Andy more fully. "You know you're always welcome there. You _know _that Andy."

"But that's because I wasn't living there!" Andy demands, his voice suddenly filling with life. "I wasn't your responsibility, your _family_. I was just some charity case Rayan brought home three years ago."

Dean is stunned for a moment, because he hadn't realized that Andy thought of himself in that way. "That's not true," Dean argues, his voice softening exponentially. "You know, Bobby once told me what I first moved in with him, carrying this little baby in my arms, that I always had a home at the salvage yard. Because family doesn't end with blood. That rule applies to you too, Andy. You're _family_, even if Winchester isn't your last name."

When Andy doesn't look up to meet Dean's gaze, the oldest Winchester reaches down and forces the teen's head up. When hazel eyes meet Dean's green, something akin to a levee breaks inside the young man and a broken sob escapes his throat as he reaches over a throws himself into Dean's chest, gripping to older man for dear life. Dean returns the hug, placing one of his large hands on the back of Andy's skull, grease be damned.

"Why would you want me around?" Andy mumbles into Dean's shoulder brokenly. "My own father thinks I'm a waste of air."

"You're _father_ is a waste of air, Andy. Not you," Dean growls out, squeezing the teen a little tighter. "And don't worry about him anymore. He's been taken care of. Now, you ready to go home, or are you still looking forward to Cleveland?"

Andy lifts his head up and looks at Dean with a soft but genuine smile. "I think I'm ready to go home."

"Good, because I'm freaking _starving_."

* * *

><p><strong>Hello all! Sorry these updates are so few and far between, but with me being on summer break I've been forgetting to write since I get caught up with a bunch of other things. So I would appreciate it if someone could drop me a line every once in a while and yell at me if I haven't updated, lol. Enjoy!<strong>

**Fallen.**


	9. Month 9

Bobby Singer has always known the risks of being a hunter, so he has always had the continuous mental checklist of all the untimely ends he could possibly meet. Caught by a djinn; eaten by a vampire; heart ripped out by a demon. The possibilities are endless.

So when Bobby wakes up one April morning, coughing and spluttering like he's drowning, the old hunter doesn't think much of it besides the typical reaction to old age. It's not until he pulls his hand away from his mouth and sees the drops of ruby red blood in his hand that Bobby becomes concerned, and a little confused.

It feels like he can't move, mesmerized by the liquid that is slowly pooling in the palm of his hand. Bobby's confused, because he hasn't been near any supernatural creature for months, so nothing could have cursed him or planted some big bad poison in him. There has to be some other explanation, the old man reasons.

Bobby finally concludes that he must have hit the hunter's helper a little too hard last night, which made his throat raw. The old man slowly slides out of his bed and moves about his bedroom, getting ready for the rest of his day before heading out into the hall and into the bathroom, washing away the remnants of the blood without a second thought.

When he reaches the kitchen, Dean is standing at the stove cooking enough eggs and bacon to feed an army. Bobby let's out a soft chuckle at the sight of the oldest Winchester playing Mr. Mom, because even after all these years the sight still hasn't gotten old.

Dean starts at the sound of one of the old wooden chairs scraping across the faded tiles of the kitchen floor, and turns to greet Bobby. "Coffee?"

"Of course, ya idjit," Bobby grumbles with a smile. "Don't I always have coffee in the morning?"

"I thought that you might have wanted to switch the schedule up, old man," Dean returns cheekily before ducking to avoid the empty water bottle that comes flying at his head.

"Old man, my ass. I'm in fighting shape."

Dean just barks out a laugh and returns to the massive pan of scrambled eggs in front of him. "Sam is bringing Carson over for the day because he has to fill in for someone in the English department at the college. They just called him about a half-hour ago, I guess."

"That's fine," Bobby says as he stands from the table to get his coffee that Dean's obviously forgotten about. "I ain't got to spend much time with the kid since Maggie died. It'll be nice to have him around the house."

"As if there aren't enough people living in this house already," Dean replies with a smirk. "You know, you should start charging rent."

Bobby turns and levels a stare at the man he considers a son. "You'll be the first freeloader I collect from, Winchester."

Dean's trademark smile snakes across his face as he rolls his head towards Bobby. "You wouldn't charge me, Bobby. I'm too adorable."

"Oh like hell," Bobby begins to protest, but he's cut off by another round of jarring coughs that leave him hunched over and gasping for air.

Dean glances back over his shoulder, a look of concern in his eyes for the old man. "You all right, Bobby?"

Bobby doesn't respond. Instead, he remains hunched over until he is able slow his breathing. Then he straightens up and examines the blood that has once again collected on his hand. Only this time it's darker and thicker.

As soon as Dean catches sight of the liquid, he throws the eggs off of the hot burner and rushes over to Bobby's side, grabbing a hold of the man's wrist to examine his hand. "Shit Bobby," the oldest Winchester growls as he leads the older man over to a chair. As soon as Bobby is situated, Dean stares the other man down. "How long has this been going on?"

"Relax," Bobby growls out as he swats Dean away. "I'm fine. It's just a little blood."

"That's not fine, Bobby!" Dean demands as he points towards the blood in Bobby's hand. "That's a whole hell of a lot of _not fine_. Now tell me when this fucking started."

Bobby sighs and grabs the towel draped over Dean's shoulder to wipe his hand clean. "This morning, Dean. It started this morning."

"Good, good," Dean mumbles to himself as he starts to pace back and forth in the kitchen. "That means if we get to the doctor this morning, we should be able to clear all this up. It's probably nothing."

"I _know _it's nothing, Dean," Bobby interjects. "So I _know _that I ain't going to the damn doctor."

"Oh like hell you aren't!" Dean argues as he turns to glare at the old man. "You start coughing up your insides, and it's time to go to the doctor."

"You ain't the boss of me, Dean."

"Someone has to be if you're not going to take care of yourself," Dean demands angrily. "Now I will hogtie your ass and load you in the trunk of the Impala if I have to, but you're going to the damn doctor's office _today_."

"Like hell I am."

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, both Bobby and Dean are seated in the oncologist's office that has taken on the old man's case. Today's the day that the test results come back and Bobby is ready to clock Dean one around the head, because the younger man can't seem to stop fidgeting in his chair.<p>

"Dean, would you knock it off," Bobby complains as he slaps the oldest Winchester's knee to stop it from jumping. "You're driving me nuts."

"Sorry, sorry," Dean apologizes as he stops the movement. Not that it matters, because two seconds later he's drumming his fingers against the wooden arm of the chair. Bobby just sighs as rubs his hand along his forehead.

The old man is never so relieved to hear a door open than his is ten minutes later, when Dr. Tomlin walks into his office holding a manila folder in his hands. But the relief is short lived when Bobby catches sight of man's face, which is folded in with the obvious knowledge of bad news.

"Hello gentlemen," Tomlin greets softly. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting this long, but I wanted to double check the results of these tests."

"Yeah whatever, Doc, let's just get to what's got my friend here spitting up his insides," Dean growls from his seat. "I want this fixed."

"Dean!" Bobby warns, feeling like he's dealing with a small child and not a thirty-eight year old man.

"No, it's quite all right Mr. Singer," Tomlin says with a quickly dismissal of his hand. "I can understand Mr. Winchester's impatience. When it comes to a family member being ill, even the smallest amounts of time feel like an eternity. I'll cut right to the chase. Mr. Singer, you have a stage III type of lung cancer."

The room goes silent, and Bobby's pretty sure Dean's just had a heart attack. But the older man can't bring himself to look over at the man he considers a son, and instead continues to gaze at Tomlin. "I figured as much," the old hunter eventually says.

"You _figured as much_?" Dean explodes, turning on Bobby with incredulous green eyes. "What does that mean, Bobby?"

"It means, that I figured out what in the hell was going on the minute he walked in the door, Dean. It ain't rocket science." Bobby doesn't give the oldest Winchester a chance to answer, and instead turns back to the doctor seated behind his desk. "What are our options?"

"Well, I believe that our best course of action will be chemotherapy, starting as soon as possible. The cancer is definitely worrisome, I won't deny, but I believe that it is beatable."

"Damn right it's beatable!" Dean growls as he stands from his chair and begins to pace around the office. "Are you sure chemo's the only thing to suggest? There's got to be some new technology or something."

Tomlin sighs and begins to answer Dean. "Well there are options like radiation, but – "

"We're doing the chemo," Bobby interrupts as he stands from his chair, his tone final. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go home and spend time with my family. I'll set up an appointment with one of the nurses."

"Bobby, what in the hell are you doing?" Dean growls as he reaches out and grabs a hold of the old man's arm. "We need to figure this out."

"I just did, Dean," Bobby answers slowly. "Now you can either ride home in the Impala, or walk. It's up to you. Thanks again, Doc."

* * *

><p>"Maybe we can take a trip down to New Orleans," Dean says into the silence of the car for what seems like the twentieth time. "There's got to be a voodoo lady that can fix this."<p>

"Dean, enough," Bobby sighs as he rubs his hands across his face in agitation. "We're not going to make these same mistakes again."

"What mistakes?" Dean demands as he slams a hand against the Impala's steering wheel. "Bobby we have to get you out of this mess. We have to…we just have to!"

Bobby sighs and stares out the windshield, trying to think of a way to make Dean understand. "I'm old, son," he begins quietly. "You and I both know that I ain't gonna live forever."

"Yeah, but you're supposed to live past seventy-five!" Dean argues, a desperate tone to his voice.

"No, Dean. I wasn't supposed to live past fifty, according to the life I lead. The way I see it, I'm getting a lucky break. I won't go out bloody, or ripped apart. I'll just _go_."

"Shut up," Dean mumbles softly, brokenly. "You can't talk like that Bobby. Not now."

Bobby ignores the oldest Winchester's silent pleading and instead continues on. "I'm gonna need you to take care of things after I'm gone. I mean, everything has been left to you and Sam, but there are going to be people you need to contact in the hunting community. And I want to be salted and burned, none of that burial crap."

"God Bobby, don't tell me this shit," Dean pleads, pulling the car over to the side of the road. When Dean turns to look at Bobby, the old man can see the glassy shine to Dean's green eyes. Bobby takes a moment to take in the fact that the last time he saw the oldest Winchester cry was after his brother jumped into the pit. It sends a pang of guilt through the old man for something he can't control. "Bobby, I can't do this without you."

Bobby reaches out and wraps a calloused hand around the back of Dean's neck and squeezes, forcing a smile onto his face. It's half-hearted, but he tries nonetheless. "Son, you _can _do this without me. You've been doing this, taking care of yourself and everyone else since your mama died all those years ago. You just never realized it. And you're gonna have to keep doing that. Keep doing it for your brother and your kids and your nephew." Bobby pauses and just stares at Dean, willing him to understand before he gives another gentle squeeze to the back of Dean's neck and pulling away. "But damn it, I'm not dead yet! So let's stop talking like I am, all right?"

Nothing else is said as Dean pulls the Impala back onto the road and drives home, silence taking over everything else in the car.

Bobby Singer always imagined a hundred different ways that he was going to die, but this wasn't one of them.


	10. Month 10

When Dean first tells Rayan about Bobby's illness, she thinks her father is playing some cruel practical joke. After loudly calling him the world's biggest jerk, the teen storms out of her bedroom and rushes into Bobby's office, hands flying through the air in pure indignation.

But her anger is short lived, because the moment Rayan steps into the cluttered room and spies Bobby sitting behind his desk she knows that her father wasn't lying to her.

The cancer surrounds the old man like a smoky fog, and Rayan's not sure how she never noticed it before. The haze screams 'death' at her, and for the hundredth time in her life, Rayan curses whatever screwed up power she has. No one should ever have to see a sickness crawling over his or her family member's skin

Yet two weeks later, Rayan finds herself in the driver's seat of the Challenger with Bobby hunched over in the passenger seat and a surly Castiel sitting stiffly in the back as the trio made their way to the hospital for the old man's first round of chemo.

Since neither Sam or Dean could take Bobby in for his first appointment with their jobs, so Rayan volunteered to skip one day of school in order to drive him in, refusing to allow Cas to angel zap the old man to the hospital. She was too afraid of what it might do to Bobby after the chemo had been administered. Plus, there are only a few days left in the year, so it's not like she'll miss much. The angel in the back is just added security for Rayan that Dean insisted upon.

Plus, the impromptu trip gave Rayan the opportunity to grab one of the last necessary items needed for the summoning spell, however unpleasant the task might be.

* * *

><p>"<em>You guys are <em>not _going to like what I have to say," Andy states as he marches into Rayan's room where she and Alabama are doing homework. _

_Alabama turns a raised eyebrow towards the boy. "And just what aren't we gonna like?"_

_Andy sighs and flops onto the bed beside Rayan, spreading out several pieces of notebook paper with his untidy scrawl covering the lines. "It took me a while to decipher the Latin, but I figured out the next item on our grocery list is."_

"_That's a good thing," Rayan interjects, turning a crooked smile towards her best friend. "It's just a matter of finding a dealer."_

"_It's not going to be that simple," Andy admits as he points out a specific section on one of the pieces of notebook paper. "Here's what we need."_

_Alabama leans over the page and quickly scans the indicated section before her nose wrinkles up in disgust. "You've got to be jokin', right? _Infants blood_?"_

"_Shut the hell up," Rayan gasps as she quickly reads over the paragraph herself. "That can't be right, Andy. You must have gotten the wrong word or something."_

"_I swear I've triple checked the instructions, and that says infants blood. Not lamb, or human, or dead mans. Infants." _

_Alabama wipes a hand over her face, as if trying to smear the image of the written words from her brain. "Death is one seriously messed up dude," she demands as she turns away from the translation and back towards her biology homework._

"_Well he is Death," Rayan admits with a sigh. "We should have expected something like this, since we are summoning the most powerful creature out there. So the question is, how are we going to get our hands on baby blood?"_

"_I'm not gettin' my hands near any babies," Alabama demands with a shake of her head. "That's some seriously bad karma we'd be gettin' into with that shit."_

"_It's not like were actually going to _kill _an infant, Alabama," Andy scolds with a roll of his eyes. "We live in the twenty first century now, and there are such things as hospitals. Where blood is drawn from humans of all ages hundreds of times a day."_

_Rayan turns a skeptical eye on Andy, but follows his train of thought nonetheless. "Are you suggesting that we sneak into the hospital and _steal_ some blood samples?" When Andy simply shrugs his shoulders, Rayan lets a wicked smile crawl across her face. "Andy, you have _officially _just become a Winchester."_

* * *

><p>Turns out that the sneaking into the hospital part of the plan won't be necessary, since Bobby has his appointment. But Rayan's not stupid, and she knows that getting away from Bobby, into the blood lab, and then stealing a vial of blood is going to be damn near impossible.<p>

Scratch that, because the 'damn near' part isn't necessary. Getting that blood is going to be impossible, plain and simple.

"You all settled in, Gramps?" Rayan asks Bobby as she flutters around him like a chicken with its head cut off. "Do you need anything? Another pillow?"

"Darlin', I'm gonna knock you upside the head if you don't sit down and stop worrying about me," Bobby growls as he swats as his granddaughter's hovering hands. "Now the nurse is gonna be in here any second, and she'll get me all set up. You just need to sit that pretty butt down and read a magazine."

Sure enough, before Rayan even has a chance to respond a young nurse with red hair and a hundred watt smile steps into the room wheeling some machine that looks more like a torture device to Rayan than anything else.

"Hi there, Mr. Singer!" the girl chirps with way too much enthusiasm for nine in the morning. "My name's Holly, and I'll be your on call nurse during your chemo sessions."

"Nice to meet you, Holly," Bobby says respectfully, holding his hand out for the young nurse to shake.

Rayan watches Bobby and the nurse share idle chatter as Holly hooks the old man up to all of the machinery needed for the treatment, but as soon as she's sure that there's nothing more she can do, Rayan stands from her chair and clears her throat to grab everyone's attention.

"I'm going to head down to the cafeteria and grab something to drink, okay?" Rayan says as she starts to slink away from the door. "I'll be back soon to watch crappy daytime TV with you Gramps."

"Sounds like a plan, darlin'," Bobby agrees in his rough voice. Rayan almost makes it to the door before that same voice is calling out to her. "And take Cas with you. He's making me nervous hovering in the corner like that."

Rayan nods and turns towards the angel. "Come on, feather butt. I'm thirsty."

* * *

><p>"I do not have a feathery behind," Cas states after the pair have walked a ways down the hall.<p>

"It's a nickname, Uncle Cas," Rayan tries to explain to the angel. When he simply blinks back at her, Rayan does nothing more but shake her head and turn to walk farther down the hall towards the elevators.

A quick hand on her arm stops her, and the teen turns back to face Castiel once again. "I took the liberty of finding a name and location of the blood sample you seek. It will not affect the baby's health at all, because it is simply a routine precaution the doctors are taking for the infants care."

Rayan looks down at the scrap of paper the angel is holding out to her and slowly takes it from Castiel's hand. She reads over the paper's contents before turning her green eyes up to the angel and nodding in thanks. "Not to sound ungrateful, but couldn't you have just snagged the vial for me?"

"Of course not," Cas says with a few rapid blinks of his bright blue eyes. "That would be considered helping, which I said I would not do."

Rayan considers trying to explain to the angel that by simply finding the right sample, he has already helped. But after a careful moment of consideration, the young Winchester decides that it's better not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Instead, she turns a innocent smile on the angel. "Do you think you could stand guard outside the lab and just let me know if someone is coming? You wouldn't even have to go inside, Uncle Cas."

There are a few moments of careful consideration on Castiel's part, but the angel eventually nods his head slowly in agreement. "I suppose standing watch would be acceptable."

* * *

><p>Getting into the blood lab is ridiculously simple, and it literally only takes Rayan five minutes to locate the vial she needs. And soon enough, the young Winchester is exiting the lab with the blood of Jennifer Chen, aged three weeks old, tucked safely in between her index finger and thumb.<p>

Alas, nothing in Rayan's life can go smoothly, and just as she's walking out of the lab doorway she bumps into the hard chest of a young man wearing the blue overalls of a janitor.

The boy can't be more than her age, and Rayan is instantly mesmerized by his grayish blue eyes and dark brown hair. And it appears that the young man is just as enthralled with Rayan.

That is until he notices the vial of blood cradled in her hand.

"What are you doing with that?" the young man asks, the deep bass of his voice sliding off his tongue like velvet. "What were you doing in the lab?"

"Uh…I was just….uhm, Dr. Tomlin asked me to pick up one of his patients blood samples. I'm an intern," Rayan chokes out, knowing that her lie isn't believed.

"Dr. Tomlin isn't a pediatrician," the man says as he leans against the handle of his mop. "And only vials with green tops hold blood samples of infants."

Rayan swears up a storm in her head mentally, and frantically searches the hall for her angel uncle that was supposed to be keeping watch for her. She should have known better than to expect the angel to understand what being a lookout actually meant.

"Listen," Rayan begins as she puts on her most winning Winchester smile. "Is there any chance that you could just forget you ever saw me? We could just part ways here and pretend this never happened."

"Not a chance in hell," the young man says with a charming smile that could equal Rayan's own. "But I'll tell you what I can do. I'll call security, and we can let them sort this out."

And Rayan just can't have that, because she's already in a big enough shit storm with just the young janitor. So, she does what any Winchester would do in this situation.

"I'm really sorry," Rayan says as she takes a step closer to the young man.

"Sorry for what?"

"This," Rayan mumbles before hauling back and throwing her fist not holding the vial forward, catching the young man square in the cheek and knocking him out cold.

The young Winchester takes a moment to study the handsome janitor's face, long enough to feel bad about leaving the inevitable bruise on his face, before turning on her heel and jogging down the hall towards the elevator. It only annoys her slightly that she can't get his bright eyes out her mind, or the sound of his voice. She'll have to find out from Holly what his name is later.

But first, she's got an angel to find.


	11. Month 11

Andy's life has never been easy, but up until three months ago he had always managed to skate by without too much trouble.

He kept his head down, and no one paid much attention.

But ever since moving in at the salvage yard, Andy's life had become nothing but what he would consider a seventeen-year-old gay teen's worst nightmare. His angry and revenge fueled father (the old man's pride be damned) had spread the word around town about Andy's true sexual preferences out of spite, and now the teen was left dealing with the repercussions of such a lifestyle in a South Dakota town.

Andy is sure he's never seen Dean Winchester as mad as he was the first day the rumors hit the salvage yard shop. An old woman, who was nice enough but a little too gossipy for her own good, had brought in her Volkswagen for an oil change, and was idly chatting away with the oldest Winchester when she spoke the inevitable words.

"_It is so brave of you to take in that young boy. I'm sure you'll be able to straighten him right up and get him back to the natural order of things."_

From what Bobby described later, because he happened to be sitting in the garage with Dean at that moment, the oldest Winchester threw his wrench down so hard that he bent the solid metal before calmly (albeit menacingly) declaring that Andy _was _natural, normal, and everything else he should be. Dean then concluded his speech by slamming the Volkswagen's hood down and pointing the old woman in the direction of the nearest mechanic, saying her business wasn't necessary at Singer's and to have wonderful afternoon.

But Dean can't be around to stick up for Andy all of the time, and the more hateful people always seem to slither out of the woodwork when the teen is least expecting it.

So on the first sunny day of their summer vacation, Andy, Alabama, and Rayan are lounging in the small park in town, watching a t-ball game and gossiping about the hot janitor that Rayan knocked out a few weeks back. Lucas is hovering some distance away, keeping a watchful eye on both the teens, and the other patrons of the park.

"So Holly said his name is Jack Devlin," Rayan repeats for what Andy feels is the thirty-fourth time. "He just moved here from Texas, but that's all she knows. No –"

"Age, family background, or school details," Alabama interjects, her arm lying across her face in exasperation. "Ray, you've told us all this a hundred times. Why don't you just go back to the hospital and find that sweet piece of country ass that you're crushin' on?"

"I am not crushing!" Rayan denies with a scowl. "I just find him fascinating, that's all."

Andy rolls onto his stomach and gives his best friend an incredulous look. "Are you seriously trying to deny how into this guy you are?" he questions with a raised eyebrow. "We all know you have a thing for the janitor. And who can really blame you, because from the way you've described him, he sounds like the hottest thing to come to Sioux Falls since fire."

Any other time, Andy could have safely made a comment like that and no one would have thought anything of it. He would have just been overlooked and ignored.

But Andy just has really shitty luck, as of late.

"Hey faggot," a rough voice belonging to a recently graduated senior football star cuts through the calm summer air. "We don't want to hear you talking about your newest _boyfriend_."

The comments are pretty mild compared to what he's been hearing over the last few months, but the word _faggot _still makes Andy feel small and weak. Especially when they're spewed by the likes of a neanderthal twice Andy's size.

Instead of standing up for himself, Andy just drops his gaze down to the patterned blanket he and his friends are sprawled out on and wills the retired football players to walk away and leave them alone. Naturally, this doesn't happen and instead it's Alabama and Rayan who stand to defend their friend.

"What's the matter, Lewis?" Alabama drawls in her thick southern accent. "You jealous that it's not your pretty face Andy's fawnin' over? Or is it not your face that's lackin' the attention?"

"That can't be it, Alabama," Rayan disagrees with a shake of her head. Then the teen gestures towards Lewis' body, just below his belt. "Andy would never go for something that…well, _insignificant._"

Lewis puffs up like a blowfish, and if Andy weren't so terrified for not only himself, but his friends as well, he probably would have laughed at the old football star's expression. But as it is, Andy's more concerned about safety over petty amusement.

"You think your tough, bitch?" Lewis growls as he takes a threatening step towards Rayan. "You're nothing but a little – "

A large and solid hand clamping down on his shoulder and tossing him to the ground cuts off Lewis. And looming over him is Lucas, a dangerous glint in the reaper's blue eyes.

"I know you weren't about to say what I was hearing," Lucas growls in a warning tone. "Because I know that your mother had to have raised you better than to disrespect a woman like that."

"Fuck you, man," Lewis grumbles as he tries to pick himself up off the ground. Lucas is having none of that, and throws a booted foot down on the football star's chest, pinning him to the hard earth.

"Apologize first and foremost to these young ladies for being such a _dick_, and then to my pal Andy over there."

It's not a request, but an order, and Lewis must understand that because he is quick to hiss in pain as the boot crushes further down on his chest before he nods in agreement. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Lucas stares down at Lewis for another second before lifting his foot and bending down to wrap a hand in the football star's shirt and hauling him to a standing position. Before releasing his hold, the reaper bends down close to Lewis's ear and whispers menacingly.

"I'd considering getting your ass out of the closet and into a reality check, Christopher Lewis. You might feel a little better about yourself."

With that, Lucas pushes the young man away, and Lewis is quick to scurry off in the direction of the parking lot, tail between his legs.

"Everybody okay?" Lucas asks as he assesses the teens in his charge. "I got over here as soon as I could, considering I can't just pop around since I'm corporeal now."

"We're fine, Lucas," Rayan responds as she pats the reaper on the arm one in thanks. "He was just another number in the long line of jerks who seem to live in this town."

Rayan is speaking the truth, but Lucas doesn't seem to be paying much attention to her. Instead, he is focused solely on Andy, who can feel the reaper's eyes digging into the back of his skull. But the teen is determined not to acknowledge Lucas, because it's embarrassing enough that his two _female _friends had to stand up for him, let alone a dead guy.

* * *

><p>When Lucas finally realizes that Andy isn't going to answer, he sends a look to Rayan and Alabama, silently asking them to give him a few minutes alone with the teen. With quick nods of agreement, the two girls head over to the nearby concession stand to buy themselves a treat, giving Lucas the time he needs.<p>

"You know, you shouldn't let assholes like that guy get to you," Lucas begins as he plops onto the blanket next to Andy and throws his arms behind his head. "They're not worth the anxiety."

Andy turns his head towards the reaper and sends him a scathing look. "Easy for you to say," he snaps with a shake of his head. "You were probably Mr. Perfect back when you were alive. I'm sure you never had to deal with jerks like Christopher Lewis."

Lucas doesn't say anything immediately, and instead continues to stare up at the blue sky with a look of serious contemplation. Andy shifts restlessly at his side, his eyes piercing directly into the reaper's head.

"Well, Lucas?" Andy finally demands in exasperation.

"I'm going to tell you something that I've never shared with anyone. Not even Ray," Lucas finally says as he turns his stunning blue eyes on Andy. This is the first time Andy's ever really noticed how attractive the reaper really is, not that it matters.

"I grew up on this little farm in Kansas," Lucas begins propping himself up on one of his elbows so he's facing Andy more directly. "It was back in the 1930s and 40s, so something that probably seems like ancient history to you. Anyway, I lived on this farm and I had a younger sister named Molly and a beautiful mother named Elizabeth. And I was the man of the house, because my dad was a waste who ran off just after Molly was born."

Andy's not sure where this story's going, so he just nods his head up and down a few times to ensure that Lucas knows he's paying attention.

"Things back then were a lot different than they are now," the reaper acknowledges with a soft smile. "Kids didn't play videogames or talk on cell phones all day. You did your work around the house, and then if you had time you gathered up and group of friends and went to the local fair or something. And when you were old enough, you found a nice girl to settle down with and marry so that you could have kids and keep the family name running."

Now, Andy's really confused because he has no idea where Lucas expects this to tie in with his life, because marrying a woman is definitely not in the teen's future plans. "I'm not really seeing what this has to do with me, Lucas."

"Just listen, and you will," Lucas reassures the teen. "So I went out and found Sarah, this cute little blonde from across town, and we started to see one another. Her dad thought I was the worst thing that ever happened to his daughter, and he was probably right, but none of it mattered because I got drafted a year after we started going steady. Although looking back on it, I probably would have married her if I hadn't gotten blown up by that land mine."

Lucas trails off, a far away look in his blue eyes, and Andy is so captivated by this secret look into the reaper's personal life that he doesn't even try to prod Lucas into speaking once again. Instead, he's content to wait out the silence.

Eventually, Lucas begins speaking again in his slow and easy tone. "What I'm trying to say Andy, is that back then I didn't really have a choice in who I was going to be with, because if you were into other men you kept your mouth shut and pretended."

Andy feels his mouth fall open at Lucas's round about confession once the teen puts the pieces together. And then he's spluttering like a fool. "You're…I-I mean you…_you're gay_?"

Lucas barks out a laugh that's so happy and infectious that Andy can't help but join in, even in his shocked state. "Surprised, right? Keeping stuff like that to yourself is a lot easier when you've had as much practice as I have, Andy." Lucas grins and reaches over to place a comforting hand on Andy's shoulder. "I told you all this because I want you to realize what an amazing thing you have here, Andy. You've got a family full of people who love you for _exactly_ the guy that you are. You've got to best friend's who were willing to insult a guy's _manhood_ to protect you. And you've got an entire life ahead of you to meet the guy that's going to be perfect and everything that you deserve. Remember that,"

"I…okay," Andy breathes out as he stares at the reaper. "I'll remember."

And as the teen watches Lucas stand and retreat back to his lookout position by a cluster of pine trees, throwing a wink and sly smile over his shoulder, Andy knows that he's fucked.

Because he's pretty sure he just feel for the hundred-year-old, newly ousted reaper.


	12. Month 12

Dean has known and understood the signs of demonic possession since he was five years old. John had pounded the idea into his head every day and night for fifteen years, so the oldest Winchester is normally confident that when a person starts acting strange or out of character, they must be possessed by _something_. Demon or no demon.

So Dean can't figure out why Sam or Bobby didn't holy water his ass and throw him in a devil's trap as soon as he tried to leave the salvage yard earlier this morning.

Because there's no way in hell Dean would readily agree to take his seventeen-year-old daughter shopping without something controlling his brain.

The oldest Winchester is slouched down on an uncomfortable white chair inside of some preppy chick store called Forever XXI, scowling at any customer or sales attendant that happens to walk by. In his black t-shirt and well-worn jeans, Dean feels out of place shoved inside the bright white walls and pastel colored clothing. Not even his mental promise of greasy food court pizza can lift the dark cloud that is shopping from above his head.

But Dean knows that he can't complain too much, because this is only the first store Rayan has brought him into. And then there's the fact that his daughter hadn't even asked the oldest Winchester to tag along, knowing that he wouldn't hate the whole shopping excursion.

But Dean must have been having a mental breakdown when she asks to borrow some money in order to buy a few new outfits for the summer months, because instead of just handing over some green bills and telling Rayan to be careful, he decides that taking his daughter to the mall would be a nice way to spend some quality time together. Because really, a few hours of shopping couldn't be too bad.

Dean's never been more wrong in his life.

"Come on, Ray," Dean whines from just outside the dressing rooms. "Are you done yet?"

"Dad, stop asking!" his daughter's voice snaps back from behind one of the several closed doors. "I just got in here five minutes ago. I need _time_."

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes, considers snapping back a response but decides that it's not in his best interest, and continues to pout on the white couch like an overgrown toddler. But along with the pouting comes the uncomfortable shifting in his seat, because he's starting to receive funny looks and stares from the many young girls and women inside the store. Apparently it's weird for a nearly middle aged man to be sitting inside the store alone.

Dean's about to call out to his daughter again because he really can't take the stares anymore (despite the fact that some of the women are pretty nice to look at), but he is saved the trouble when one of the dressing room doors swing open and Rayan emerges.

Not that a whole new set of protests don't rise to his tongue as soon as he catches sight of the close his daughter is wearing.

The teen has on a set of black skinny jeans that Dean would normally grudgingly accept, except for the fact that they have several man-made rips up and down the legs. And Dean's not going to buy a pair of pants that already have holes in them. And then there's the shirt. It's a white and silver tank top that swoops down in the front, not necessarily in a tacky way, but definitely in the "holy shit, she's a girl" way.

"When did you get _those_?" Dean chokes as he gestures wildly at Rayan.

Rayan looks down at the clothes she's wearing and then back up at Dean. "You just watched me pick them off the shelf."

"Not the clothes," Dean scoffs. "_Those_."

It takes Rayan a moment, but as soon as she realizes what Dean is talking about a look of embarrassment and horror crosses her face. "_Dad_!" she hisses quietly, looking around her to make sure people aren't watching. "This should not be an issue anymore. I'm seventeen years old. Of course I've…grown."

But it is an issue for Dean, because he hasn't noticed that his little girl is obviously well on her way to becoming a woman. Obviously, it's not like he was _looking_ (because that would just be pervy), but Rayan's also never outwardly wore an article of clothing that wasn't a baggy t-shirt either.

"Pick out a different shirt," Dean demands with a wave of his hand. "Something that's got more…well, just more. I don't need any teenage boys coming around the house."

"Dad, it's a shirt," Rayan protests as she tugs on the fabric a little. "Normal seventeen-year-olds wear shirts like this. _I _want to wear shirts like this."

"And I want to meet Pamela Anderson, but that's not going to happen. Now go change."

Rayan glares at her father for a moment, narrowing her eyes and pulling her lips into a thin line. Then with a growl, she turns on her heel and marches back into the dressing room, muttering under her breath the whole way.

Dean watches her go and drops his head into his hands as soon as the dressing room door shuts. The oldest Winchester is well aware of the fact that he didn't handle that as well as he could have. And he also knows that he could have handled the whole realization of his daughter having boobs much better, also. But the moments over, and whether he was wrong or not, Dean isn't ready to admit that Rayan is going from his sweet little girl into a beautiful young woman.

"Does your wife normally take her shopping?"

Dean is so absorbed in his thoughts that he misses the approaching click of heels against the tile floor, and jumps a little when the woman speaks to him. He quickly looks up and takes in the sight of an attractive woman with short blonde hair and brown eyes, not much younger than himself.

"I'm not married," is the first thing Dean blurts out before rolling his eyes in exasperation towards himself. He can't believe how uncool he's become over the years. "I mean, normally her aunt would bring her. You know, to offer advice and everything."

"I figured you weren't the regular after your mild panic attack," the woman jokes with a bright smile. When Dean gives her a strange look, she sobers up and begins to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I was over by the shoes and overheard your little discussion. My name's Heather."

Dean grasps the woman's outstretched hand and introduces himself. "Dean Winchester. Are you always this nosy?"

Heather lets off a soft laugh and takes a seat next to Dean on the white couch. "Only while shopping," she says with a grin. "And I thought you could use a little help in the shopping department."

"Do I really look that desperate?" Dean asks with a half-laugh, leaning back against the white leather.

"Only when you're daughter comes out of the dressing room."

"Peachy," Dean sighs as he rubs a hand across his face. "But you saw the shirt, right? I mean, that was just a little too much."

Heather laughs, and shakes her head slightly. "Actually, that was one of the more modest pieces in this place. I thought she looked nice."

"Well, yeah, she did look nice," Dean grudgingly admits. "But it was just a little too much for a seventeen-year-old, don't you think?"

Heather laughs and leans back against the couch next to Dean. "You sound just like my husband the first time our daughter came home wearing an outfit similar to the one your daughter is wearing. He claimed that she was too young, even though she was eighteen and getting ready to go to college. Although he was a little worse when it came to the developmental issue and fully asked her when she got boobs in the middle of a Wal-Mart parking lot."

Dean lets out a little laugh, picturing Rayan's mortification if he were to actually say the word boobs. The longer he sits with Heather, the more he realizes that he probably overreacted to the outfit Ray had tried on, and that it really wasn't all that bad.

"This, I'm not trying to tell you how to parent," Heather says with a friendly pat to Dean's arm. "I just think that you should reconsider your initially rejection to the shirt. At least she's asking for your opinion."

Before Dean can say anything else, Heather is up off the couch and making her way back through the store, waving over her shoulder. He feels bad for the woman's husband, because all of the energy and pep that was stored inside Heather seems like way too much for one man to handle alone.

But he does agree that she had a point, and he decides that as soon as Rayan exits the dressing room, he'll tell her the shirt looks nice and she should get it.

* * *

><p>Rayan is inside the dressing room, shedding off the clothes she tried on and still mumbling under her breath about naïve fathers who are overbearing and ridiculous when her phone rings. Reaching down onto the small bench inside the room, she grabs the device and notes that it's Andy calling her before she flips the phone open.<p>

"You've noticed my boobs before, right?" she asks her best friend without even saying hello.

"Uh, is this a trick question?" Andy asks, apprehension coloring his tone.

Rayan sighs and plops down onto the bench. "Very funny, Andy."

"Well you can't blame me! You're asking the gay kid if he's noticed your breasts. We don't tend to look for that kind of thing."

"Whatever," Rayan growls out, bending over to lace her boots back up.

Andy chuckles on the other end of the line softly, and Rayan can just picture the smirk on the other teen's face. "I take it the shopping trip isn't going as well as it could."

"Dad just discovered I have boobs. That's how well it's going."

A loud bark of laughter echoes through the phone as Andy reacts to his best friend's statement. Rayan just scowls into the device, as if she can send her glare through the phone's signal. She should have known that Andy would be nowhere near sympathetic.

"Yeah, laugh it up asshole," Rayan growls at her friend.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Andy apologizes as he calms himself down. "Anyway, I've got some news that I think will make you feel better."

"Do you now?"

"I sure do," Andy says in a smug tone. Not that it actually sounds smug, because Andy is too much of a sweetheart to actually sound smug. "Alabama just convinced Cas to give us the last item we need for the summoning spell."

Rayan jumps up and begins to pace in the dressing room, not that there's a whole lot of space for that in the first place. "Cas gave us an angel feather? Really? This is great! Now we can finally summon Death and figure out what in the hell I've got going on with me. I'm coming home right now."

"Woah, Ray. Slow down," Andy interrupts, panic in his voice. "We might have all the stuff, but we're nowhere near ready yet. We still need to find a time when no one is home, and we have to make sure we can perform the spell flawlessly. One screw up and we could be in serious trouble."

Rayan groans and flops back down on the bench. "So what are we talking, a week? A month?"

"Who knows? But Cas is confident that it shouldn't bee too much longer. Just a lot of planning for right now, though."

"Great, more waiting," Rayan complains.

"Just look at it this way, Ray," Andy consoles through the phone. "We're so fucking _close_."

* * *

><p><strong>Hello everyone! I just wanted to let you know that this is the last chapter of this small fic, and the first chapter of the newest full-length fic will be up soon enough. There will be more explored concerning Jack Devlin, Rayan's abilities, and...Death is coming. =P<strong>

**Thanks again for all of the reviews! Some of them seriously crack me up, and I love it!**

**Fallen**


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